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 Burundi and from Madrid.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Columbus.
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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Ken Boothe to the techno 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 H. Thieme. All the underground hits.
All Flash Fearless tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Max Romeo 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Durutti Column,
Robert Görl,
Michelle Simonal,
Cheater Slicks,
Dark Day,
The New Christs,
Bobby Byrd,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Flash Fearless,
Thee Headcoats,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Panda Bear,
Piero Umiliani,
Soul II Soul,
Roxy Music,
Bobby Sherman,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Sound Behaviour,
Malaria!,
Tres Demented,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Slits,
Chrome,
Loose Ends,
Roxette,
The Motions,
Harmonia,
Niagra,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Camberwell Now,
The Doors,
Quantec,
Sugar Minott,
Jesper Dahlback,
John Holt,
The Mojo Men,
Prince Buster,
Flipper,
Funkadelic,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Aloha Tigers,
The Misunderstood,
Slick Rick,
The Fuzztones,
The Knickerbockers,
EPMD,
Connie Case,
Joyce Sims,
Erasure,
Goldenarms,
The Wake,
Ludus,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Swell Maps,
Alton Ellis,
The Pretty Things,
Parry Music,
Q and Not U,
Swans,
Minutemen,
The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks.
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.