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 Kosovo and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Delhi.
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 synthesizer 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 Man Eating Sloth to the rap 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 Reuben Wilson. All the underground hits.
All Moby Grape tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every World's Most record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Franke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Don Cherry,
Pussy Galore,
The Trojans,
The J.B.'s,
Avey Tare,
Monks,
Warsaw,
Agitation Free,
Livin' Joy,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Black Flag,
Kerri Chandler,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Au Pairs,
Brothers Johnson,
The Monks,
Sonny Sharrock,
Jacques Brel,
Babytalk,
Soul II Soul,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Divine Comedy,
Mantronix,
The Raincoats,
Depeche Mode,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Funkadelic,
Buzzcocks,
The Zeros,
The Five Americans,
Kenny Larkin,
Man Eating Sloth,
John Lydon,
Anakelly,
The Angels of Light,
MDC,
Gong,
Simply Red,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
David Axelrod,
Arcadia,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Nation of Ulysses,
Fatback Band,
The Walker Brothers,
H. Thieme,
Mars,
Johnny Osbourne,
Ohio Players,
the Swans,
Icehouse,
Rites of Spring,
Oneida,
Nick Fraelich,
Sound Behaviour,
10cc,
Lower 48,
The New Christs,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Deakin,
Quantec,
Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis.
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.