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 Morocco and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 harpsichord 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 N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Eric Dolphy. All the underground hits.
All Sugar Minott tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Velvet Underground record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crispy Ambulance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mr. Review,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Slick Rick,
Magma,
The Human League,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
F. McDonald,
Porter Ricks,
Soft Machine,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Barbara Tucker,
One Last Wish,
Monks,
the Sonics,
Sexual Harrassment,
Jeru the Damaja,
Symarip,
R.M.O.,
Avey Tare,
Pere Ubu,
The Trojans,
E-Dancer,
Don Cherry,
Robert Görl,
Nirvana,
Morten Harket,
Arcadia,
These Immortal Souls,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Funkadelic,
Girls At Our Best!,
Isaac Hayes,
Lakeside,
Pulsallama,
Danielle Patucci,
The Victims,
Jacob Miller,
Henry Cow,
MDC,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Scott Walker,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
FM Einheit,
Visage,
The Durutti Column,
Supertramp,
Pylon,
Hashim,
Duran Duran,
Au Pairs,
Black Pus,
Marcia Griffiths,
Average White Band,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Last Poets,
Boredoms,
Guru Guru,
Soul II Soul,
Nico,
The Litter,
Grey Daturas,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Fad Gadget,
Surgeon,
Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish.
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.