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 Venezuela and from Mexico City.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Peter & Gordon to the techno 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 The Peanut Butter Conspiracy. All the underground hits.
All Black Moon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Funkadelic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 an oboe and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Funkadelic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeru the Damaja,
Trumans Water,
Ohio Players,
Dual Sessions,
The Invisible,
Bad Manners,
Cecil Taylor,
Porter Ricks,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Crispy Ambulance,
Liliput,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Suburban Knight,
Ossler,
Interpol,
Lucky Dragons,
Underground Resistance,
The Techniques,
The Alarm Clocks,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Alice Coltrane,
Bluetip,
Mark Hollis,
ABBA,
Zero Boys,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Toni Rubio,
Lakeside,
Circle Jerks,
Harpers Bizarre,
Mary Jane Girls,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Simply Red,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Kerrie Biddell,
John Foxx,
The Buckinghams,
Wings,
The New Christs,
Q and Not U,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Scratch Acid,
Ten City,
Todd Terry,
James White and The Blacks,
These Immortal Souls,
Nico,
Sound Behaviour,
Barbara Tucker,
Sam Rivers,
Minnie Riperton,
Adolescents,
Idris Muhammad,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Sound,
the Swans,
The Fuzztones,
Nation of Ulysses,
Rekid,
Lalo Schifrin,
Vainqueur,
Al Stewart, Al Stewart, Al Stewart, Al Stewart.
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.