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 Marshall Islands and from Stockholm.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Eli Mardock to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Royal Trux. All the underground hits.
All Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radiohead record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a X-102 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stereo Dub,
Ohio Players,
Drive Like Jehu,
Pole,
Junior Murvin,
Laurel Aitken,
The Zeros,
MC5,
John Coltrane,
Andrew Hill,
Joyce Sims,
Deepchord,
Public Enemy,
U.S. Maple,
KRS-One,
Girls At Our Best!,
Pussy Galore,
The Saints,
Rakim,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
R.M.O.,
Guru Guru,
Barrington Levy,
Lou Christie,
The J.B.'s,
X-Ray Spex,
Surgeon,
Sparks,
Bill Near,
Grandmaster Flash,
DNA,
Charles Mingus,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
a-ha,
Maleditus Sound,
Judy Mowatt,
Quantec,
Sarah Menescal,
Severed Heads,
Pylon,
Qualms,
Cameo,
New Order,
Motorama,
Isaac Hayes,
Donald Byrd,
MDC,
Electric Prunes,
Lakeside,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Hardrive,
Maurizio,
The Toasters,
Masters at Work,
48th St. Collective,
Spandau Ballet,
The Sound,
Tommy Roe,
Rites of Spring,
The Vogues,
Fela Kuti,
Symarip, Symarip, Symarip, Symarip.
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.