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 Laos and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 Milan and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Fuzztones to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Gil Scott Heron. All the underground hits.
All Television tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Flag 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slick Rick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Eating Sloth,
These Immortal Souls,
Grauzone,
The Young Rascals,
Babytalk,
John Lydon,
Deadbeat,
Fela Kuti,
Accadde A,
The Monks,
Howard Jones,
The New Christs,
Arcadia,
Todd Rundgren,
Deakin,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Peter and Kerry,
Girls At Our Best!,
Gerry Rafferty,
Moebius,
Eric Dolphy,
Television,
The Remains,
Metal Thangz,
The Slits,
Ornette Coleman,
Susan Cadogan,
Echospace,
Janne Schatter,
Jesper Dahlback,
Sonic Youth,
Roger Hodgson,
The Skatalites,
Amon Düül,
Cheater Slicks,
The Mummies,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Knickerbockers,
Donald Byrd,
The Fortunes,
Bizarre Inc.,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Smoke,
Angry Samoans,
D'Angelo,
Bang On A Can,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Zapp,
Tropical Tobacco,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Tremeloes,
Livin' Joy,
X-102,
Porter Ricks,
Gong,
Stiv Bators,
Black Moon,
Can,
Depeche Mode,
The Techniques,
Khruangbin,
Soulsonic Force, Soulsonic Force, Soulsonic Force, Soulsonic Force.
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.