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 Tuvalu and from Columbus.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 mellotron 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 The Flesh Eaters to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Gerry Rafferty. All the underground hits.
All Rhythm & Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Electric Prunes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deakin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pantaleimon,
Deakin,
Arcadia,
Henry Cow,
T. Rex,
Zapp,
Icehouse,
Visage,
The Residents,
Joensuu 1685,
Stockholm Monsters,
Young Marble Giants,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Skriet,
Al Stewart,
Blancmange,
The J.B.'s,
Talk Talk,
Donny Hathaway,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Public Image Ltd.,
Flipper,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Harry Pussy,
Scan 7,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Sandy B,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Kurtis Blow,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Average White Band,
Stetsasonic,
Darondo,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Tim Buckley,
Bang On A Can,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Ronan,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Grey Daturas,
The Fuzztones,
Sonic Youth,
Black Sheep,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Leaves,
Carl Craig,
Jeff Mills,
Barry Ungar,
Peter and Kerry,
Harmonia,
Smog,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Parry Music,
Con Funk Shun,
Easy Going,
Scientists,
the Sonics,
Lightning Bolt,
Au Pairs,
Dead Boys,
Mandrill,
Fluxion,
X-Ray Spex,
Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry.
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.