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 Kosovo and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 Halifax and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 synthesizer 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 Minny Pops to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron. All the underground hits.
All Brass Construction tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bronski Beat record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doors record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gabor Szabo,
Fluxion,
The Dirtbombs,
Lucky Dragons,
Black Moon,
Todd Rundgren,
PIL,
Eric Copeland,
Morten Harket,
Chrome,
Ronnie Foster,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Smiths,
kango's stein massive,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Minutemen,
Jacques Brel,
Jeff Mills,
The Birthday Party,
Pantytec,
Royal Trux,
Nirvana,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Tim Buckley,
The Monochrome Set,
Matthew Halsall,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Stooges,
Pulsallama,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Tommy Roe,
Fugazi,
The American Breed,
Bootsy Collins,
Young Marble Giants,
Inner City,
Henry Cow,
Gregory Isaacs,
Gang of Four,
Sex Pistols,
Minnie Riperton,
James White and The Blacks,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Boz Scaggs,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Mr. Review,
Moby Grape,
Minny Pops,
The Smoke,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Cameo,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
This Heat,
The Count Five,
Smog,
John Holt,
Arthur Verocai,
The Walker Brothers,
Brass Construction,
Dennis Brown,
Echospace,
Soulsonic Force, Soulsonic Force, Soulsonic Force, Soulsonic Force.
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.