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 Algeria and from Stockholm.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 snare 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 Crispian St. Peters to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Sexual Harrassment. All the underground hits.
All Japan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scratch Acid 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Five Americans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nirvana,
Ohio Players,
Black Pus,
The Knickerbockers,
Rapeman,
The Litter,
Gichy Dan,
Marshall Jefferson,
Niagra,
Little Man,
Big Daddy Kane,
Icehouse,
Todd Rundgren,
Eddi Front,
Anthony Braxton,
The Remains,
Urselle,
Motorama,
DJ Style,
Freddie Wadling,
Al Stewart,
Neil Young,
Marcia Griffiths,
Soulsonic Force,
Bobby Sherman,
The Gun Club,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Unrelated Segments,
Susan Cadogan,
The Standells,
Sarah Menescal,
The Divine Comedy,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Stooges,
Vladislav Delay,
Aloha Tigers,
Donald Byrd,
Rosa Yemen,
Matthew Bourne,
The Fire Engines,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Raincoats,
Jacob Miller,
Fad Gadget,
Tomorrow,
Newcleus,
Sonny Sharrock,
Reuben Wilson,
Godley & Creme,
Camouflage,
K-Klass,
Iggy Pop,
Bauhaus,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Gories,
Television,
The Neon Judgement,
Eric B and Rakim,
Crime,
E-Dancer,
Archie Shepp,
The Dirtbombs,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Rahsaan Roland Kirk.
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.