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 Czech Republic and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 güiro 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 Tears for Fears to the jazz 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 Eric Dolphy. All the underground hits.
All Gerry Rafferty tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deepchord record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lafayette Afro Rock Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Grass Roots,
The Skatalites,
The Electric Prunes,
the Soft Cell,
Cecil Taylor,
Au Pairs,
H. Thieme,
Rod Modell,
The Moleskins,
Eyeless In Gaza,
John Lydon,
The Saints,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Shuggie Otis,
The Black Dice,
Graham Central Station,
Yellowson,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Alison Limerick,
JFA,
The Beau Brummels,
Darondo,
Joe Smooth,
Marc Almond,
The Mojo Men,
The Cramps,
Sex Pistols,
the Sonics,
Marcia Griffiths,
Idris Muhammad,
Wolf Eyes,
Japan,
Rotary Connection,
The Sound,
Donald Byrd,
Eve St. Jones,
Urselle,
Khruangbin,
Talk Talk,
Altered Images,
Moss Icon,
The Detroit Cobras,
Eddi Front,
The Invisible,
The Doors,
New Age Steppers,
ABBA,
Pulsallama,
Letta Mbulu,
Young Marble Giants,
X-Ray Spex,
Anakelly,
Clear Light,
The Birthday Party,
Barrington Levy,
Brand Nubian,
Half Japanese,
Joensuu 1685,
the Swans,
Y Pants,
Barbara Tucker,
Agitation Free,
Popol Vuh,
Make Up, Make Up, Make Up, Make Up.
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.