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 Georgia and from Tehran.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 harpsichord 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 James White and The Blacks to the crunk 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 The Five Americans. All the underground hits.
All Flamin' Groovies tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Chrome record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Man Parrish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ronnie Foster,
John Holt,
Josef K,
Ponytail,
B.T. Express,
David McCallum,
Animal Collective,
Minny Pops,
Qualms,
Prince Buster,
Barclay James Harvest,
Cal Tjader,
Althea and Donna,
Max Romeo,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Royal Trux,
Mantronix,
Mary Jane Girls,
Andrew Hill,
Judy Mowatt,
CMW,
Can,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Bronski Beat,
Lalo Schifrin,
Yellowson,
Ice-T,
T. Rex,
The Fuzztones,
The Invisible,
The Sonics,
Boogie Down Productions,
Tropical Tobacco,
The American Breed,
Gastr Del Sol,
Erykah Badu,
The Residents,
the Slits,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Zeros,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Q and Not U,
Los Fastidios,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Moody Blues,
Blossom Toes,
Stiv Bators,
Icehouse,
Pylon,
Lungfish,
Smog,
The Buckinghams,
The Associates,
Robert Wyatt,
The Electric Prunes,
Cybotron,
Lucky Dragons,
Average White Band,
Big Daddy Kane,
Nik Kershaw,
The Detroit Cobras,
Johnny Osbourne,
Peter and Kerry, Peter and Kerry, Peter and Kerry, Peter and Kerry.
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.