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 Malta and from Lyon.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the clarinet 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 The Move to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Bad Manners. All the underground hits.
All Outsiders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deadbeat record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Motorama 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?
Andrew Hill,
Ultimate Spinach,
Vladislav Delay,
Swans,
Shoche,
Sexual Harrassment,
Lyres,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Bluetip,
Tom Boy,
Barbara Tucker,
June of 44,
Yaz,
Arthur Verocai,
Ten City,
Jacob Miller,
Harmonia,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Chris Corsano,
R.M.O.,
Jeff Mills,
Gang Green,
Roxy Music,
The Music Machine,
Reagan Youth,
Minny Pops,
Pharoah Sanders,
Funky Four + One,
The Victims,
Surgeon,
Throbbing Gristle,
Scratch Acid,
Soft Cell,
Gabor Szabo,
Marvin Gaye,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Ice-T,
Roxette,
Warren Ellis,
Can,
Scott Walker,
Brothers Johnson,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Neon Judgement,
DNA,
Susan Cadogan,
T. Rex,
Sandy B,
The Buckinghams,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Cure,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Misunderstood,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Interpol,
Toni Rubio,
Eric Copeland,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Blake Baxter,
The Slits, The Slits, The Slits, The Slits.
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.