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 Uzbekistan and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 X-Ray Spex to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Zapp. All the underground hits.
All Camberwell Now tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Flag,
The Five Americans,
The Litter,
A Certain Ratio,
Tropical Tobacco,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Desert Stars,
Mad Mike,
Barbara Tucker,
The Cure,
The J.B.'s,
Skarface,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Doobie Brothers,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Man Eating Sloth,
ABBA,
La Düsseldorf,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Sun Ra,
Deadbeat,
Be Bop Deluxe,
the Slits,
Danielle Patucci,
Pole,
The Pop Group,
Camberwell Now,
Charles Mingus,
Anakelly,
Make Up,
Roy Ayers,
Siglo XX,
The Grass Roots,
John Foxx,
Marvin Gaye,
Reagan Youth,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Blackbyrds,
Kurtis Blow,
Nation of Ulysses,
Quando Quango,
The Mojo Men,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Organ,
Gang Starr,
Index,
Quantec,
The American Breed,
Yaz,
Unrelated Segments,
Lucky Dragons,
Mandrill,
The Gap Band,
Jeff Mills,
Scott Walker,
Stiv Bators,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Agent Orange,
Ultimate Spinach,
Sugar Minott,
Whodini, Whodini, Whodini, Whodini.
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.