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 Ukraine and from Paris.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Scientists to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Durutti Column. All the underground hits.
All Frankie Knuckles tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New Order record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 an organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scratch Acid record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Birthday Party,
Popol Vuh,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Mad Mike,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
T. Rex,
Dual Sessions,
Siglo XX,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Stereo Dub,
Cymande,
The Cowsills,
Sun Ra,
Scientists,
Excepter,
The Human League,
Slick Rick,
Rapeman,
Ornette Coleman,
Reagan Youth,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Trojans,
U.S. Maple,
Rhythm & Sound,
Section 25,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Fugs,
Kerrie Biddell,
Gichy Dan,
Ituana,
Joy Division,
Sällskapet,
Jeff Mills,
Aural Exciters,
Donald Byrd,
the Bar-Kays,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Symarip,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Throbbing Gristle,
Boz Scaggs,
Gang Gang Dance,
Terry Callier,
Don Cherry,
Soft Cell,
The Litter,
The Knickerbockers,
KRS-One,
Deadbeat,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Harmonia,
Joe Finger,
Alphaville,
Shuggie Otis,
Jesper Dahlback,
Eli Mardock,
Big Daddy Kane,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sixth Finger,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Wolf Eyes,
The Standells, The Standells, The Standells, The Standells.
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.