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 St Lucia and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 organ 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 Bootsy Collins to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band. All the underground hits.
All Roger Hodgson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Index record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a MDC 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?
H. Thieme,
Bronski Beat,
Aural Exciters,
David McCallum,
Cheater Slicks,
Aloha Tigers,
Faraquet,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Invisible,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Crispy Ambulance,
Flipper,
Whodini,
Bad Manners,
Lebanon Hanover,
Roger Hodgson,
Wolf Eyes,
the Bar-Kays,
OOIOO,
48th St. Collective,
Sparks,
Tim Buckley,
Stereo Dub,
Mr. Review,
Soft Cell,
Accadde A,
The Toasters,
U.S. Maple,
D'Angelo,
K-Klass,
Talk Talk,
kango's stein massive,
Grandmaster Flash,
Wally Richardson,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Amazonics,
Warsaw,
Slick Rick,
Dark Day,
Monolake,
Flamin' Groovies,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Lungfish,
Half Japanese,
Country Teasers,
Nik Kershaw,
Todd Terry,
The Moleskins,
Kerri Chandler,
The Alarm Clocks,
ABC,
Shoche,
Judy Mowatt,
the Normal,
Q and Not U,
Cameo,
Rhythm & Sound,
Quadrant,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Minor Threat,
Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth.
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.