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 New Zealand and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 spring reverb 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 Michelle Simonal to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Angels of Light. All the underground hits.
All Man Eating Sloth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Agent Orange 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a LL Cool J record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scrapy,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Tropical Tobacco,
New York Dolls,
Bang On A Can,
Man Eating Sloth,
Black Sheep,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Bobby Womack,
Danielle Patucci,
The Tremeloes,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
JFA,
Magma,
James White and The Blacks,
Crooked Eye,
Quantec,
DJ Style,
B.T. Express,
Stockholm Monsters,
Curtis Mayfield,
Absolute Body Control,
The Gap Band,
LL Cool J,
Johnny Clarke,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Barracudas,
Organ,
Icehouse,
Marc Almond,
Anakelly,
Aural Exciters,
Deepchord,
Judy Mowatt,
Anthony Braxton,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Spandau Ballet,
Scott Walker,
Matthew Halsall,
Magazine,
X-Ray Spex,
The New Christs,
Man Parrish,
Metal Thangz,
Slick Rick,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Camberwell Now,
Clear Light,
The Raincoats,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Little Man,
Desert Stars,
Moss Icon,
Gregory Isaacs,
Eden Ahbez,
John Coltrane,
The Neon Judgement,
R.M.O.,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
T.S.O.L.,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Gerry Rafferty, Gerry Rafferty, Gerry Rafferty, Gerry Rafferty.
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.