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 Tajikistan and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 chamberlin 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 T.S.O.L. to the crunk 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 Barracudas. All the underground hits.
All Justin Hinds & The Dominoes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every World's Most record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marmalade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Al Stewart,
Stockholm Monsters,
Isaac Hayes,
Rakim,
The Dirtbombs,
Depeche Mode,
Rod Modell,
Lou Reed,
Urselle,
Bill Near,
Erykah Badu,
June of 44,
Peter and Kerry,
Harry Pussy,
Hardrive,
the Soft Cell,
The Index,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
JFA,
The Toasters,
Procol Harum,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Zapp,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Brass Construction,
Stetsasonic,
Camberwell Now,
Barclay James Harvest,
The New Christs,
Country Teasers,
Von Mondo,
The Pop Group,
Gil Scott Heron,
Donny Hathaway,
Mars,
CMW,
Echospace,
Byron Stingily,
The Offenders,
Suburban Knight,
Neu!,
The Angels of Light,
Pole,
The Invisible,
the Sonics,
F. McDonald,
Khruangbin,
The Slackers,
Juan Atkins,
E-Dancer,
Gichy Dan,
Oblivians,
Rapeman,
Eurythmics,
The Young Rascals,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Barry Ungar,
Bobby Womack,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Newcleus,
The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies.
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.