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 Tanzania and from Manila.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the organ 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 The Cowsills to the rap 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 Bobby Hutcherson. All the underground hits.
All Bad Manners tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pulsallama 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Niagra record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The J.B.'s,
John Foxx,
Arthur Verocai,
Agent Orange,
Harry Pussy,
Swans,
Scan 7,
Magazine,
Wasted Youth,
The Mojo Men,
Zapp,
Lee Hazlewood,
Sandy B,
Kurtis Blow,
Das Ding,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Girls At Our Best!,
Lightning Bolt,
La Düsseldorf,
Avey Tare,
Buzzcocks,
B.T. Express,
Animal Collective,
Los Fastidios,
The Sonics,
The Blackbyrds,
Groovy Waters,
Bobby Womack,
Procol Harum,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Mummies,
The United States of America,
Archie Shepp,
Bang On A Can,
Don Cherry,
Adolescents,
The Kinks,
Nik Kershaw,
Traffic Nightmare,
Aloha Tigers,
Gang Green,
Mars,
Pet Shop Boys,
Byron Stingily,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
MC5,
Oneida,
Ituana,
Qualms,
Bill Near,
Siglo XX,
Bobby Sherman,
Drexciya,
Junior Murvin,
Thee Headcoats,
Drive Like Jehu,
Negative Approach,
Joyce Sims,
Masters at Work,
Gang of Four,
Lungfish,
Bad Manners,
Maleditus Sound,
Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat.
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.