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 Monaco and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Dark Day to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Morten Harket. All the underground hits.
All June of 44 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Moon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James Chance & The Contortions record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Janne Schatter,
Albert Ayler,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Duran Duran,
Sexual Harrassment,
Organ,
Surgeon,
Excepter,
Michelle Simonal,
Negative Approach,
Electric Prunes,
PIL,
Stockholm Monsters,
Quadrant,
Black Pus,
Sex Pistols,
Absolute Body Control,
Lou Reed,
Sandy B,
Don Cherry,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Traffic Nightmare,
Ice-T,
Gregory Isaacs,
Livin' Joy,
The Grass Roots,
Jacob Miller,
Icehouse,
Siglo XX,
Kenny Larkin,
Brass Construction,
Sällskapet,
Mo-Dettes,
Throbbing Gristle,
Aaron Thompson,
Bobby Sherman,
Monks,
The Tremeloes,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Liliput,
Crime,
Sugar Minott,
Blossom Toes,
Pussy Galore,
Boredoms,
Nick Fraelich,
Brand Nubian,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Ituana,
Shuggie Otis,
DJ Style,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Fatback Band,
The Moleskins,
Scion,
Con Funk Shun,
Pantaleimon,
Spandau Ballet,
Todd Terry,
Schoolly D,
Erykah Badu,
Lakeside,
Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar.
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.