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 Mauritania and from Copenhagen.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Camberwell Now. All the underground hits.
All Inner City tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Beasts of Bourbon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 808 and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Reuben Wilson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pantytec,
Crispy Ambulance,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Symarip,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Al Stewart,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Selecter,
New Age Steppers,
Q and Not U,
The Velvet Underground,
Delta 5,
The Fuzztones,
Eric B and Rakim,
Eric Dolphy,
The Monks,
Letta Mbulu,
Nik Kershaw,
One Last Wish,
Nick Fraelich,
Malaria!,
Mr. Review,
The Real Kids,
Pharoah Sanders,
Quadrant,
Lightning Bolt,
Sonic Youth,
K-Klass,
Bob Dylan,
Alison Limerick,
Eden Ahbez,
Brass Construction,
Drive Like Jehu,
Theoretical Girls,
The Seeds,
Soft Cell,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Pussy Galore,
The Slackers,
Silicon Teens,
Black Bananas,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Urselle,
Hashim,
Whodini,
Lalann,
New York Dolls,
Newcleus,
Dennis Brown,
Morten Harket,
Deakin,
Clear Light,
Barbara Tucker,
Eddi Front,
The Barracudas,
Aaron Thompson,
Fela Kuti,
Average White Band,
The Trojans,
Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd.
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.