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 Jordan and from Sao Paulo.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Liaisons Dangereuses to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Nico. All the underground hits.
All The Dead C tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobbi Humphrey 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gladiators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Fania All-Stars,
Spandau Ballet,
The Stooges,
DJ Sneak,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Aloha Tigers,
The Searchers,
Ultimate Spinach,
Archie Shepp,
Agent Orange,
Ice-T,
Sällskapet,
Funkadelic,
Kenny Larkin,
Hashim,
Sam Rivers,
The Selecter,
Darondo,
Siglo XX,
The Cosmic Jokers,
John Foxx,
Youth Brigade,
Monolake,
Pylon,
Anakelly,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Black Pus,
Jeff Lynne,
Lebanon Hanover,
Skaos,
K-Klass,
The Alarm Clocks,
These Immortal Souls,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Gang Starr,
Index,
Electric Prunes,
The Standells,
Cameo,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Groovy Waters,
Ornette Coleman,
Bobby Byrd,
Alice Coltrane,
Con Funk Shun,
Josef K,
Deakin,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Agitation Free,
The Seeds,
Popol Vuh,
The Monks,
New York Dolls,
Ossler,
Moby Grape,
Aaron Thompson,
Steve Hackett,
Main Source,
The Star Department,
The Fuzztones,
Ohio Players,
Kerri Chandler,
Big Daddy Kane,
KRS-One,
Radiohead, Radiohead, Radiohead, Radiohead.
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.