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 Portugal and from Winnipeg.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Carl Craig to the electroclash 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 World's Most. All the underground hits.
All Ajijia Myrayebe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David Bowie record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Names record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispian St. Peters,
Stereo Dub,
Ituana,
D'Angelo,
Junior Murvin,
Lower 48,
Country Teasers,
Bauhaus,
Agent Orange,
Newcleus,
Trumans Water,
Joey Negro,
DJ Sneak,
Eddi Front,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Crime,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Martian,
a-ha,
Loose Ends,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Roxy Music,
Slick Rick,
June of 44,
The Count Five,
Nico,
Gang of Four,
Spandau Ballet,
The Searchers,
Maurizio,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Matthew Bourne,
The Remains,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Kaleidoscope,
Neu!,
These Immortal Souls,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Sly & The Family Stone,
DNA,
Boz Scaggs,
Make Up,
Roy Ayers,
The Fortunes,
Dual Sessions,
Q65,
Soul II Soul,
Arthur Verocai,
Deakin,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Yazoo,
The Durutti Column,
Clear Light,
Alice Coltrane,
Nik Kershaw,
The Gories,
Marine Girls,
Jeru the Damaja,
John Holt,
Scientists, Scientists, Scientists, Scientists.
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.