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 Rwanda 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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the güiro 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 June Days to the techno 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 E-Dancer. All the underground hits.
All Talk Talk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lightning Bolt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wire,
The Pop Group,
Alton Ellis,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
New Age Steppers,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Divine Comedy,
Franke,
Lungfish,
Man Parrish,
The Blackbyrds,
The Electric Prunes,
Albert Ayler,
Spoonie Gee,
Marshall Jefferson,
Bobbi Humphrey,
David Bowie,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Blues Magoos,
The Dave Clark Five,
Groovy Waters,
OOIOO,
Donny Hathaway,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Five Americans,
Gastr Del Sol,
Lalann,
Eli Mardock,
Simply Red,
The Buckinghams,
Crooked Eye,
Delon & Dalcan,
Brick,
Supertramp,
Bob Dylan,
Rapeman,
Liliput,
The Angels of Light,
Janne Schatter,
Can,
Johnny Osbourne,
Sugar Minott,
Kevin Saunderson,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Rotary Connection,
the Fania All-Stars,
Animal Collective,
Reuben Wilson,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Stiv Bators,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Warsaw,
Dual Sessions,
Tom Boy,
Jeff Lynne,
Average White Band,
ABBA,
Blancmange,
Suicide,
Echospace,
Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy.
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.