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 Korea South and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 Sao Paulo and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 rhodes 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Joensuu 1685. All the underground hits.
All Duran Duran tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hashim 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Motorama record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mr. Review,
Bobby Womack,
Pagans,
Throbbing Gristle,
Bang On A Can,
Fela Kuti,
cv313,
Stereo Dub,
Duran Duran,
Theoretical Girls,
John Holt,
Idris Muhammad,
Television,
Tommy Roe,
X-102,
Sandy B,
the Human League,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Sonics,
Sam Rivers,
Rites of Spring,
The Golliwogs,
the Soft Cell,
Black Bananas,
Pantaleimon,
Nirvana,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
One Last Wish,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Michelle Simonal,
Main Source,
PIL,
The Residents,
Cecil Taylor,
the Germs,
The Doobie Brothers,
the Slits,
T.S.O.L.,
The Cowsills,
The Shadows of Knight,
Half Japanese,
Gang Green,
Royal Trux,
Au Pairs,
The Fuzztones,
Cymande,
The Moody Blues,
These Immortal Souls,
Jerry's Kids,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Blancmange,
The Fire Engines,
Hoover,
The Alarm Clocks,
Buzzcocks,
Gang Gang Dance,
Neu!,
The Walker Brothers,
China Crisis,
Thee Headcoats,
Todd Rundgren,
Albert Ayler,
Darondo,
Chrome,
Cluster, Cluster, Cluster, Cluster.
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.