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 Nicaragua and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 synthesizer 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 Todd Terry 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 Desert Stars. All the underground hits.
All Gabor Szabo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Red Krayola record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Henry Cow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lungfish,
Piero Umiliani,
Bluetip,
The Trojans,
Mad Mike,
Circle Jerks,
The Fall,
The Busters,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Tears for Fears,
Khruangbin,
The Offenders,
The Moody Blues,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Leaves,
Sixth Finger,
Carl Craig,
Skarface,
Angry Samoans,
La Düsseldorf,
Thee Headcoats,
Sight & Sound,
Robert Görl,
Guru Guru,
Easy Going,
Slave,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
LL Cool J,
Television Personalities,
Eric Copeland,
Aswad,
The Dead C,
Talk Talk,
Gil Scott Heron,
Magazine,
Crash Course in Science,
The Barracudas,
Young Marble Giants,
Organ,
Todd Rundgren,
Howard Jones,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Anakelly,
The Gories,
Henry Cow,
Warren Ellis,
Delta 5,
Reagan Youth,
Throbbing Gristle,
Jerry's Kids,
Crooked Eye,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Alphaville,
Steve Hackett,
Inner City,
Moebius,
The Motions,
Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus.
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.