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 Kenya and from Delhi.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Johnny Osbourne to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft. All the underground hits.
All Art Ensemble Of Chicago tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Echo & the Bunnymen record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Basic Channel 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?
The Flesh Eaters,
Rakim,
Rotary Connection,
Soft Cell,
Kool Moe Dee,
Bill Near,
ABBA,
Bobby Sherman,
The Smoke,
Sugar Minott,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Althea and Donna,
Circle Jerks,
Glenn Branca,
The Trojans,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Alice Coltrane,
Faust,
The Pretty Things,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
48th St. Collective,
Flash Fearless,
8 Eyed Spy,
Barrington Levy,
Warsaw,
Anthony Braxton,
Girls At Our Best!,
Duran Duran,
The Gun Club,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Panda Bear,
Dual Sessions,
The Moleskins,
D'Angelo,
Cameo,
Moebius,
Man Parrish,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Quando Quango,
The Walker Brothers,
Scion,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Qualms,
The Seeds,
Essential Logic,
Graham Central Station,
Funkadelic,
Crime,
James White and The Blacks,
Donald Byrd,
Glambeats Corp.,
Lalo Schifrin,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Smog,
Andrew Hill,
The Fire Engines,
Nirvana,
World's Most,
Mary Jane Girls,
Todd Terry,
Sällskapet,
Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians.
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.