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 Bangladesh and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Thee Headcoats to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Absolute Body Control. All the underground hits.
All Eden Ahbez tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gastr Del Sol 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soul II Soul record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New York Dolls,
Groovy Waters,
AZ,
Kaleidoscope,
Jesper Dahlback,
DNA,
The Black Dice,
Crooked Eye,
The Saints,
The Moody Blues,
Eddi Front,
Harmonia,
Hot Snakes,
Essential Logic,
DJ Sneak,
Drexciya,
Matthew Bourne,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Dirtbombs,
Gang of Four,
MC5,
Cluster,
Freddie Wadling,
Lou Reed,
Au Pairs,
Funkadelic,
the Sonics,
Shuggie Otis,
The Dave Clark Five,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Sun City Girls,
the Soft Cell,
Blancmange,
The Smoke,
The Grass Roots,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Roy Ayers,
The Standells,
Amon Düül,
Scion,
Rod Modell,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Tomorrow,
48th St. Collective,
Crash Course in Science,
Harpers Bizarre,
Deadbeat,
Procol Harum,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Half Japanese,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Gang Green,
Junior Murvin,
Black Moon,
Don Cherry,
The Mighty Diamonds,
UT,
B.T. Express,
David Bowie,
Grauzone,
Lyres, Lyres, Lyres, Lyres.
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.