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 Vanuatu and from Philadelphia.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 David Bowie to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Sonics. All the underground hits.
All the Bar-Kays tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Selector Dub Narcotic 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a ABBA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispy Ambulance,
The J.B.'s,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Peter and Kerry,
Moss Icon,
Howard Jones,
The Flesh Eaters,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Tremeloes,
World's Most,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Ultra Naté,
China Crisis,
Black Pus,
The Star Department,
Derrick Morgan,
The Selecter,
Das Ding,
Monks,
The Mojo Men,
Cybotron,
The Associates,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Matthew Halsall,
Oblivians,
Scott Walker,
Boogie Down Productions,
Tubeway Army,
Tommy Roe,
Darondo,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Parry Music,
Scion,
Althea and Donna,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Cameo,
The American Breed,
Black Sheep,
Joe Smooth,
Anthony Braxton,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Lower 48,
OOIOO,
The Blues Magoos,
Brothers Johnson,
Bizarre Inc.,
Quando Quango,
The Electric Prunes,
A Certain Ratio,
Todd Rundgren,
Dawn Penn,
CMW,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Pere Ubu,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Technova,
Reuben Wilson, Reuben Wilson, Reuben Wilson, Reuben Wilson.
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.