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 Philippines and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 Michael McDonald 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 Litter to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Shadows of Knight. All the underground hits.
All Delta 5 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Sheep record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Urselle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rekid,
The Electric Prunes,
The Trojans,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Grass Roots,
Heaven 17,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Sonics,
Amon Düül,
The Evens,
Skarface,
The Skatalites,
Dual Sessions,
Boogie Down Productions,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Mo-Dettes,
Juan Atkins,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Blues Magoos,
John Holt,
Althea and Donna,
Absolute Body Control,
Nik Kershaw,
China Crisis,
David Bowie,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Altered Images,
Echospace,
Babytalk,
Susan Cadogan,
Fatback Band,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Eddi Front,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Pussy Galore,
Magazine,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Cheater Slicks,
Curtis Mayfield,
Jacob Miller,
Laurel Aitken,
The Invisible,
Suburban Knight,
Dead Boys,
Theoretical Girls,
Anthony Braxton,
Y Pants,
Eric Copeland,
Danielle Patucci,
The Music Machine,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Bobby Byrd,
Ronnie Foster,
The Pop Group,
Faraquet,
Pere Ubu,
Agent Orange,
The Fugs,
The Techniques,
Organ, Organ, Organ, Organ.
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.