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 Mali and from Calgary.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and New York.
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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Andrew Hill to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Gang Starr. All the underground hits.
All Tropical Tobacco tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Detroit Cobras 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ice-T record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Almond,
The Count Five,
The New Christs,
Mantronix,
Scion,
DJ Style,
Q65,
This Heat,
James White and The Blacks,
Warren Ellis,
Jacques Brel,
Yazoo,
Adolescents,
Loose Ends,
Dark Day,
Reagan Youth,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Pop Group,
Fluxion,
Aaron Thompson,
The Slits,
T. Rex,
Lalann,
Laurel Aitken,
Arcadia,
Porter Ricks,
Cecil Taylor,
Stiv Bators,
Toni Rubio,
The Toasters,
Lee Hazlewood,
Marine Girls,
Don Cherry,
X-101,
AZ,
Sam Rivers,
Gang of Four,
Brass Construction,
Moebius,
Sandy B,
Drive Like Jehu,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Gladiators,
Unwound,
Moby Grape,
Lindisfarne,
The Motions,
The Smiths,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Fortunes,
Eurythmics,
10cc,
Altered Images,
Chris & Cosey,
Traffic Nightmare,
Procol Harum,
The Fall,
Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra.
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.