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 Pakistan and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 Columbus and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Buckinghams to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Severed Heads. All the underground hits.
All The Dead C tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Supertramp,
The Buckinghams,
X-Ray Spex,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Monochrome Set,
Marmalade,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Eurythmics,
Fat Boys,
Lindisfarne,
Bronski Beat,
David Axelrod,
Absolute Body Control,
Sandy B,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Pretty Things,
John Foxx,
Althea and Donna,
Jacques Brel,
The Detroit Cobras,
Scientists,
Crispian St. Peters,
Underground Resistance,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Doobie Brothers,
Hasil Adkins,
Minor Threat,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Index,
8 Eyed Spy,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Faraquet,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Half Japanese,
X-102,
Dead Boys,
Bobby Womack,
Loose Ends,
Fluxion,
Model 500,
Fad Gadget,
Ituana,
Tropical Tobacco,
Q65,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Bush Tetras,
Todd Terry,
Alphaville,
Sound Behaviour,
The Blackbyrds,
Laurel Aitken,
Japan,
LL Cool J,
The Misunderstood,
Andrew Hill,
Q and Not U,
The Gun Club,
Quando Quango,
Sonny Sharrock,
Darondo,
Fatback Band, Fatback Band, Fatback Band, Fatback Band.
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.