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 Solomon Islands and from Bologna.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Hashim to the punk 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 Minny Pops. All the underground hits.
All Heavy D & The Boyz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Curtis Mayfield record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Funky Four + One record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-101,
Chrome,
Arthur Verocai,
Althea and Donna,
Skaos,
Leonard Cohen,
Lungfish,
Bush Tetras,
Dawn Penn,
UT,
Funkadelic,
The Human League,
Joe Finger,
Bill Wells,
The Star Department,
Sandy B,
The Names,
The Durutti Column,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Gun Club,
Black Moon,
Television Personalities,
Ponytail,
E-Dancer,
Television,
The Walker Brothers,
Grauzone,
Black Pus,
Funky Four + One,
Duran Duran,
Country Teasers,
Vladislav Delay,
The Leaves,
Robert Hood,
Sam Rivers,
Davy DMX,
L. Decosne,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Scott Walker,
10cc,
Man Parrish,
Laurel Aitken,
Monks,
Ornette Coleman,
Hot Snakes,
The Gladiators,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Skatalites,
Angry Samoans,
The Misunderstood,
Blossom Toes,
Smog,
Popol Vuh,
Qualms,
Cybotron,
John Lydon,
World's Most,
Harpers Bizarre,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
June Days,
Nation of Ulysses,
a-ha,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman.
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.