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 Liberia and from Delhi.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Tremeloes to the grunge 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 Kevin Saunderson. All the underground hits.
All Basic Channel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Art Ensemble Of Chicago record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 an oboe and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brass Construction record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Pylon,
Eden Ahbez,
The Fugs,
The Velvet Underground,
Donny Hathaway,
Byron Stingily,
Ultimate Spinach,
Q65,
Royal Trux,
Todd Terry,
F. McDonald,
Blossom Toes,
Franke,
Dave Gahan,
Ultra Naté,
The New Christs,
New Order,
Black Pus,
Boz Scaggs,
Isaac Hayes,
Kayak,
Neil Young,
a-ha,
Gang Green,
Marshall Jefferson,
Motorama,
Judy Mowatt,
Talk Talk,
Livin' Joy,
The Dave Clark Five,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Monks,
John Cale,
Theoretical Girls,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Hot Snakes,
Subhumans,
The Misunderstood,
Gregory Isaacs,
Minutemen,
Wally Richardson,
X-102,
Tres Demented,
Michelle Simonal,
David Axelrod,
Sarah Menescal,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Soft Cell,
Surgeon,
Bush Tetras,
Eddi Front,
Silicon Teens,
David Bowie,
Henry Cow,
Masters at Work,
Flash Fearless,
The Searchers,
Desert Stars,
Outsiders,
A Certain Ratio,
Dual Sessions,
Essential Logic,
Joy Division, Joy Division, Joy Division, Joy Division.
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.