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 Hungary and from Sao Paulo.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 The Red Krayola to the rock 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 Model 500. All the underground hits.
All Jerry Gold Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Monochrome Set 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 '70s.
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 Niagra record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
R.M.O.,
Judy Mowatt,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Busters,
Connie Case,
The Flesh Eaters,
Gil Scott Heron,
Newcleus,
10cc,
Absolute Body Control,
The Cowsills,
Maurizio,
James White and The Blacks,
Cameo,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Happenings,
China Crisis,
Fluxion,
Spandau Ballet,
Harmonia,
The Evens,
a-ha,
8 Eyed Spy,
The J.B.'s,
Dual Sessions,
Michelle Simonal,
Blossom Toes,
Wally Richardson,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Modern Lovers,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Bluetip,
Albert Ayler,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
New Age Steppers,
Dave Gahan,
Soul II Soul,
A Certain Ratio,
The Beau Brummels,
Marc Almond,
The Residents,
Mandrill,
The Blues Magoos,
Reuben Wilson,
Barry Ungar,
Joensuu 1685,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
David McCallum,
Bob Dylan,
Arcadia,
The Grass Roots,
Derrick May,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Organ,
Freddie Wadling,
The Martian,
Gang Starr,
Heaven 17,
Half Japanese,
Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox.
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.