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 Somalia and from Glasgow.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Rhythm & Sound to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Suburban Knight. All the underground hits.
All The Happenings tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Moody Blues record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rufus Thomas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Index,
The Sonics,
Freddie Wadling,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Tears for Fears,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Nation of Ulysses,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Rhythm & Sound,
Flamin' Groovies,
X-Ray Spex,
Chris & Cosey,
Basic Channel,
Dead Boys,
Motorama,
June of 44,
Qualms,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Ultravox,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Dual Sessions,
Television Personalities,
Man Parrish,
Ituana,
The Five Americans,
Index,
Marmalade,
Rapeman,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Scan 7,
F. McDonald,
Hashim,
JFA,
The Dirtbombs,
Eric Copeland,
Audionom,
Animal Collective,
The Wake,
LL Cool J,
Popol Vuh,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Sugar Minott,
Maurizio,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Seeds,
Albert Ayler,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Alarm Clocks,
Kenny Larkin,
Ornette Coleman,
Minny Pops,
Jandek,
Babytalk,
Pylon,
The Monochrome Set,
Barrington Levy,
Crash Course in Science,
Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet.
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.