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 Comoros and from Taipei.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Parry Music to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Marc Almond. All the underground hits.
All Rod Modell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Sheep record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rakim,
Stereo Dub,
Tres Demented,
Urselle,
The American Breed,
Section 25,
DJ Sneak,
Zapp,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Detroit Cobras,
Mo-Dettes,
Dead Boys,
The Offenders,
Marvin Gaye,
Alton Ellis,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Monochrome Set,
Sex Pistols,
Girls At Our Best!,
Simply Red,
Man Eating Sloth,
Saccharine Trust,
Ultra Naté,
Donny Hathaway,
The Last Poets,
Procol Harum,
Erykah Badu,
The Durutti Column,
Barrington Levy,
Kaleidoscope,
Gerry Rafferty,
Dark Day,
Drexciya,
Khruangbin,
Black Pus,
Matthew Halsall,
Toni Rubio,
The Fuzztones,
Terry Callier,
Ronnie Foster,
the Sonics,
AZ,
Wings,
The Moody Blues,
Mission of Burma,
The Zeros,
Tommy Roe,
OOIOO,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Selecter,
Massinfluence,
Piero Umiliani,
Outsiders,
Oneida,
Big Daddy Kane,
Glambeats Corp.,
Lungfish,
Pussy Galore,
Sixth Finger,
Josef K,
Qualms,
the Bar-Kays,
Camouflage,
Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt.
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.