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 Guinea-Bissau and from Delhi.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The Cowsills to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Black Dice. All the underground hits.
All Joe Finger tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ohio Players record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 a 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Almond record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terrestrial Tones,
The Blues Magoos,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
John Holt,
Rod Modell,
Kerri Chandler,
K-Klass,
Heaven 17,
Jeff Mills,
Simply Red,
Chris Corsano,
Quadrant,
The Smiths,
Kas Product,
Supertramp,
Symarip,
Marshall Jefferson,
Stereo Dub,
Gil Scott Heron,
Kerrie Biddell,
Marc Almond,
Archie Shepp,
Gong,
The Cramps,
Pussy Galore,
Gregory Isaacs,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Radio Birdman,
Junior Murvin,
Urselle,
New Age Steppers,
Brand Nubian,
Gabor Szabo,
Sällskapet,
Skaos,
The Fuzztones,
Whodini,
Gang of Four,
Interpol,
The Velvet Underground,
Clear Light,
the Bar-Kays,
Soul II Soul,
Wings,
Public Enemy,
Alice Coltrane,
Glambeats Corp.,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Boredoms,
The Pop Group,
The Raincoats,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Monochrome Set,
Blancmange,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Moebius, Moebius, Moebius, Moebius.
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.