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 El Salvador and from Winnipeg.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 Nile Rodgers 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 Shoche to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Wire. All the underground hits.
All Todd Terry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eve St. Jones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Patti Smith,
Blancmange,
The Blues Magoos,
Japan,
a-ha,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Lalann,
Inner City,
Con Funk Shun,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Blossom Toes,
Peter and Kerry,
Cluster,
Suburban Knight,
Bill Wells,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Gun Club,
Desert Stars,
Byron Stingily,
Second Layer,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Motions,
Marshall Jefferson,
Donald Byrd,
Niagra,
The Cure,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Sonny Sharrock,
Ten City,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Golliwogs,
Brand Nubian,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Tremeloes,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Seeds,
Organ,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Five Americans,
Lungfish,
The Cramps,
John Holt,
Jacob Miller,
Infiniti,
Procol Harum,
The Monks,
Index,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Von Mondo,
Barry Ungar,
Ken Boothe,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
T.S.O.L.,
Spoonie Gee,
The Buckinghams,
Dawn Penn,
The Divine Comedy,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Joy Division,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Accadde A, Accadde A, Accadde A, Accadde A.
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.