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 Maldives and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the linndrum 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 It's A Beautiful Day to the funk 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 the Bar-Kays. All the underground hits.
All Black Moon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Khruangbin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Swell Maps record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Fania All-Stars,
Icehouse,
Electric Prunes,
Groovy Waters,
Mo-Dettes,
Au Pairs,
Terry Callier,
Sixth Finger,
Bad Manners,
Rufus Thomas,
The Index,
Barry Ungar,
Warsaw,
Man Parrish,
Fear,
Black Bananas,
Skaos,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
the Slits,
The Toasters,
Steve Hackett,
Infiniti,
Tubeway Army,
H. Thieme,
The New Christs,
Outsiders,
The Slackers,
Negative Approach,
Symarip,
Mars,
Brothers Johnson,
Television,
Nirvana,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
One Last Wish,
Khruangbin,
The Dead C,
The Grass Roots,
Radio Birdman,
The Vogues,
Carl Craig,
Talk Talk,
the Sonics,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bluetip,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Q and Not U,
Lungfish,
Aaron Thompson,
Pagans,
The Beau Brummels,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Byron Stingily,
U.S. Maple,
Surgeon,
Alice Coltrane,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Average White Band,
Maleditus Sound,
Lower 48,
Marc Almond,
Procol Harum, Procol Harum, Procol Harum, Procol Harum.
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.