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 Vietnam and from Shanghai.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Harpers Bizarre to the grime 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 D'Angelo. All the underground hits.
All Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gun Club record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobbi Humphrey record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Peter and Kerry,
Rakim,
The Saints,
The Seeds,
Index,
These Immortal Souls,
The Alarm Clocks,
Scratch Acid,
Gerry Rafferty,
Peter & Gordon,
Soulsonic Force,
Sam Rivers,
Fat Boys,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Bronski Beat,
Kurtis Blow,
John Cale,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Quadrant,
Amazonics,
Bauhaus,
Moby Grape,
Marvin Gaye,
Chris Corsano,
Echospace,
Moebius,
Stiv Bators,
Joyce Sims,
KRS-One,
Soft Machine,
Cybotron,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Raincoats,
Anakelly,
Alphaville,
Ken Boothe,
The Barracudas,
Boz Scaggs,
China Crisis,
Cymande,
Can,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Dead C,
Marmalade,
Young Marble Giants,
Mandrill,
Ultra Naté,
Radio Birdman,
Moss Icon,
Shoche,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Ornette Coleman,
Wally Richardson,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Fuzztones,
The Smoke,
Stetsasonic,
The Electric Prunes,
Throbbing Gristle,
Isaac Hayes,
Ultravox,
Simply Red,
Smog, Smog, Smog, Smog.
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.