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 Cyprus and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 clarinet 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 Severed Heads to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Tommy Roe. All the underground hits.
All Fort Wilson Riot tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ronnie Foster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Skatalites record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Khruangbin,
Bobby Byrd,
Donny Hathaway,
The Red Krayola,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sexual Harrassment,
Mary Jane Girls,
Skriet,
L. Decosne,
The Buckinghams,
Henry Cow,
Intrusion,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Sonics,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Offenders,
Das Ding,
The Leaves,
Bob Dylan,
OOIOO,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
CMW,
Zapp,
Porter Ricks,
The Dead C,
UT,
the Soft Cell,
Man Eating Sloth,
Davy DMX,
Anthony Braxton,
The Detroit Cobras,
Qualms,
Wally Richardson,
Second Layer,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Misunderstood,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Mad Mike,
Scrapy,
Icehouse,
Dorothy Ashby,
James White and The Blacks,
Eddi Front,
Tommy Roe,
The Doobie Brothers,
Dual Sessions,
Pylon,
Rufus Thomas,
Jerry's Kids,
Barry Ungar,
Laurel Aitken,
Throbbing Gristle,
These Immortal Souls,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Ten City,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Rites of Spring,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Connie Case,
The Names,
Lightning Bolt,
Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman.
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.