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 Venezuela and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Seoul.
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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Mo-Dettes to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Eve St. Jones. All the underground hits.
All Buzzcocks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yaz record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 theremin and a linndrum 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 organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Flesh Eaters,
Banda Bassotti,
The Five Americans,
Deepchord,
The Raincoats,
Young Marble Giants,
Aural Exciters,
Boz Scaggs,
Franke,
Chris Corsano,
Sällskapet,
Sun City Girls,
The J.B.'s,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Gun Club,
Freddie Wadling,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Electric Prunes,
Sonic Youth,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Eurythmics,
Easy Going,
Terrestrial Tones,
Nirvana,
Tomorrow,
Gang Starr,
Fad Gadget,
the Sonics,
Qualms,
Johnny Osbourne,
Boredoms,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Sandy B,
The Happenings,
Pet Shop Boys,
Shuggie Otis,
Q65,
Talk Talk,
Funky Four + One,
The Monochrome Set,
Soul II Soul,
cv313,
The Cramps,
Al Stewart,
Tubeway Army,
Bobby Sherman,
David McCallum,
Tim Buckley,
Ossler,
Kurtis Blow,
Donald Byrd,
John Holt,
Funkadelic,
Rufus Thomas,
Bobby Byrd,
Graham Central Station,
The Barracudas,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Toasters,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Theoretical Girls,
the Germs,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Mr. Review,
Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe.
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.