Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Montenegro and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing The Jesus and Mary Chain to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Joy Division. All the underground hits.
All James White and The Blacks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ornette Coleman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cramps record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Zeros,
The Vogues,
The Gun Club,
UT,
Yazoo,
Deepchord,
Icehouse,
Surgeon,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Divine Comedy,
Traffic Nightmare,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Fall,
Procol Harum,
Groovy Waters,
Cal Tjader,
X-Ray Spex,
Con Funk Shun,
Altered Images,
Blake Baxter,
Albert Ayler,
Rhythm & Sound,
Ronan,
Babytalk,
the Bar-Kays,
Silicon Teens,
Robert Görl,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Excepter,
Rufus Thomas,
PIL,
Bill Near,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Gang Green,
The Five Americans,
H. Thieme,
Henry Cow,
Fela Kuti,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Mark Hollis,
Ralphi Rosario,
Spandau Ballet,
Graham Central Station,
The Smoke,
The Monks,
Terry Callier,
The Doobie Brothers,
The J.B.'s,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Deakin,
Jimmy McGriff,
Byron Stingily,
Rekid,
Cluster,
Isaac Hayes,
Little Man,
The Gories,
Hot Snakes,
Lee Hazlewood,
Audionom,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Pierre Henry,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Interpol, Interpol, Interpol, Interpol.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.