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 Sudan and from Paris.
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 Shanghai and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Marcia Griffiths to the grunge 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All Average White Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marmalade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a It's A Beautiful Day record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Quantec,
Cameo,
Interpol,
Surgeon,
The New Christs,
Saccharine Trust,
Faust,
Barclay James Harvest,
Kayak,
Colin Newman,
Niagra,
Rod Modell,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Max Romeo,
Unrelated Segments,
Donald Byrd,
Procol Harum,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Throbbing Gristle,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Bob Dylan,
Arcadia,
Sällskapet,
Slick Rick,
Johnny Osbourne,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
AZ,
Vainqueur,
Angry Samoans,
Funkadelic,
The Associates,
The Selecter,
The Birthday Party,
Yaz,
Hardrive,
Gang of Four,
Fear,
Grandmaster Flash,
Shuggie Otis,
Shoche,
Todd Terry,
Curtis Mayfield,
Intrusion,
Marcia Griffiths,
LL Cool J,
Excepter,
Amon Düül II,
Swell Maps,
Audionom,
Bobby Byrd,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Marmalade,
Ohio Players,
Delta 5,
Alison Limerick,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
One Last Wish,
Davy DMX,
Animal Collective,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Von Mondo, Von Mondo, Von Mondo, Von Mondo.
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.