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 Malaysia and from Toronto.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 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 Angry Samoans to the electroclash 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 Gastr Del Sol. All the underground hits.
All Byron Stingily tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Smog record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ponytail record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Womack,
Al Stewart,
Ralphi Rosario,
Traffic Nightmare,
Gang Starr,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Anakelly,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Tropical Tobacco,
John Foxx,
Pagans,
Gil Scott Heron,
Robert Görl,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Boz Scaggs,
Index,
New Age Steppers,
E-Dancer,
Bill Near,
Ornette Coleman,
Steve Hackett,
Scott Walker,
The Evens,
Arthur Verocai,
Flipper,
James White and The Blacks,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Thompson Twins,
Eve St. Jones,
The Move,
Radiohead,
Zapp,
Lakeside,
Country Teasers,
Sight & Sound,
Gastr Del Sol,
Sex Pistols,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Suburban Knight,
Aaron Thompson,
Dorothy Ashby,
Skriet,
Lower 48,
Marmalade,
Soft Machine,
8 Eyed Spy,
Pere Ubu,
Ronnie Foster,
Joyce Sims,
Wings,
Fatback Band,
Eli Mardock,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Heaven 17,
Banda Bassotti,
Jeff Lynne,
Gang Gang Dance,
Camberwell Now,
Toni Rubio,
Isaac Hayes,
Alison Limerick,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band, Manfred Mann's Earth Band, Manfred Mann's Earth Band, Manfred Mann's Earth Band.
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.