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 Netherlands and from Edmonton.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Gerry Rafferty to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Amon Düül II. All the underground hits.
All Slick Rick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultimate Spinach 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Heaven 17 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gastr Del Sol,
Sight & Sound,
Echospace,
H. Thieme,
Mr. Review,
The Martian,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Barrington Levy,
June of 44,
Iggy Pop,
Bang On A Can,
Livin' Joy,
Ornette Coleman,
Donald Byrd,
Adolescents,
the Bar-Kays,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Kaleidoscope,
Pharoah Sanders,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Joey Negro,
The Residents,
Pierre Henry,
The Names,
Freddie Wadling,
Gang Starr,
The Fall,
Country Teasers,
Nirvana,
Khruangbin,
Tres Demented,
Sex Pistols,
Faraquet,
Carl Craig,
Index,
Howard Jones,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Johnny Osbourne,
Connie Case,
Zapp,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Yellowson,
The Zeros,
Siglo XX,
Niagra,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Robert Görl,
Wolf Eyes,
Subhumans,
Roy Ayers,
Bad Manners,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
KRS-One,
Alphaville,
Joensuu 1685,
Donny Hathaway,
Chris Corsano,
Glambeats Corp.,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Motorama,
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide, Suicide.
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.