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 Andorra and from Lille.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Minutemen to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Junior Murvin. All the underground hits.
All Steve Hackett tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Juan Atkins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 chamberlin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nirvana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dead C,
Hashim,
Crash Course in Science,
U.S. Maple,
Talk Talk,
Lakeside,
Arab on Radar,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Crispian St. Peters,
Pussy Galore,
Dark Day,
Eddi Front,
the Human League,
The Doors,
Bill Wells,
Chris Corsano,
The Seeds,
Jeru the Damaja,
Wasted Youth,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Golliwogs,
Davy DMX,
Jacques Brel,
the Bar-Kays,
The Grass Roots,
Tommy Roe,
the Slits,
The New Christs,
Anthony Braxton,
Fluxion,
The Doobie Brothers,
Minny Pops,
Lalann,
Dead Boys,
Little Man,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Nation of Ulysses,
These Immortal Souls,
Sun City Girls,
Donny Hathaway,
Yusef Lateef,
Ponytail,
New Age Steppers,
Television Personalities,
Boredoms,
Public Image Ltd.,
the Association,
Eric Copeland,
The Blues Magoos,
Mo-Dettes,
Lyres,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Black Sheep,
ABC,
The Offenders,
Man Parrish,
Qualms,
Bobbi Humphrey,
La Düsseldorf,
Radiohead,
Lee Hazlewood,
Moss Icon,
The Knickerbockers,
Loose Ends, Loose Ends, Loose Ends, Loose Ends.
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.