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 Copenhagen.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Sly & The Family Stone to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Boogie Down Productions. All the underground hits.
All Selector Dub Narcotic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ronan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eli Mardock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ice-T,
Siglo XX,
Mandrill,
Joey Negro,
Cheater Slicks,
The Flesh Eaters,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Avey Tare,
The Names,
Dark Day,
Tim Buckley,
Amazonics,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Todd Rundgren,
Derrick Morgan,
Susan Cadogan,
The Fall,
Soul Sonic Force,
Excepter,
Warren Ellis,
The Divine Comedy,
Cameo,
Public Image Ltd.,
Whodini,
Quadrant,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Swans,
Arab on Radar,
Skriet,
David Bowie,
Spandau Ballet,
Scott Walker,
Porter Ricks,
Surgeon,
Yusef Lateef,
Idris Muhammad,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Tremeloes,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Babytalk,
The Angels of Light,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Masters at Work,
Hardrive,
The Five Americans,
AZ,
48th St. Collective,
Althea and Donna,
The Stooges,
Kerrie Biddell,
Au Pairs,
Dawn Penn,
The Detroit Cobras,
Skaos,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Knickerbockers,
Agitation Free,
Liliput,
Graham Central Station,
Nick Fraelich,
Second Layer,
Malaria!,
the Human League, the Human League, the Human League, the Human League.
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.