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 Rwanda and from London.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 arpeggiator 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 Ronan to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Golliwogs. All the underground hits.
All Rod Modell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy Collins 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scientists record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Pylon,
Soul Sonic Force,
Matthew Halsall,
Yaz,
Quando Quango,
The Toasters,
The Misunderstood,
Traffic Nightmare,
Marc Almond,
Kerrie Biddell,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Sister Nancy,
Mo-Dettes,
Cal Tjader,
Jesper Dahlback,
Ultra Naté,
Bad Manners,
Animal Collective,
Wolf Eyes,
Accadde A,
Technova,
The Trojans,
Arcadia,
Lungfish,
Stiv Bators,
Chris & Cosey,
Visage,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Gong,
The Golliwogs,
Fela Kuti,
Livin' Joy,
Basic Channel,
Barclay James Harvest,
Janne Schatter,
The Invisible,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Pierre Henry,
Pussy Galore,
Y Pants,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Liliput,
The Gories,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
David Axelrod,
Barry Ungar,
Juan Atkins,
The Residents,
The Names,
Max Romeo,
Panda Bear,
Bauhaus,
Magazine,
Country Teasers,
Jeff Lynne,
D'Angelo,
Jerry Gold Smith,
New York Dolls,
Sonny Sharrock,
Inner City,
Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor.
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.