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 Peru 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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Manchester.
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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog to the techno 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 DNA. All the underground hits.
All Sparks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terrestrial Tones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 snare and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gary Puckett & The Union Gap 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?
The Dead C,
The Move,
Sam Rivers,
La Düsseldorf,
Can,
The Tremeloes,
Bobby Womack,
Bobby Byrd,
Lou Christie,
The J.B.'s,
a-ha,
Drexciya,
Sonny Sharrock,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Hardrive,
Motorama,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Moby Grape,
Carl Craig,
Ken Boothe,
Sun City Girls,
Joe Smooth,
Nick Fraelich,
Robert Hood,
Morten Harket,
Rod Modell,
Colin Newman,
Jerry's Kids,
Duran Duran,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
B.T. Express,
Depeche Mode,
Brass Construction,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Flamin' Groovies,
Grauzone,
Janne Schatter,
The Barracudas,
June of 44,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Ice-T,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Pantaleimon,
The Sonics,
Vainqueur,
Oneida,
Gichy Dan,
Livin' Joy,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Kinks,
Clear Light,
The Slits,
The Dirtbombs,
Boz Scaggs,
Suicide,
Tomorrow,
The Smiths,
Glambeats Corp., Glambeats Corp., Glambeats Corp., Glambeats Corp..
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.