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 Cape Verde and from Johannesburg.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Gun Club to the disco 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 World's Most. All the underground hits.
All Boogie Down Productions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Flesh Eaters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Remains record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Make Up,
X-Ray Spex,
The Names,
Porter Ricks,
Ponytail,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Busters,
Popol Vuh,
Warren Ellis,
Tropical Tobacco,
David Bowie,
Aswad,
Supertramp,
Joensuu 1685,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Standells,
Yellowson,
Radio Birdman,
The Flesh Eaters,
Arab on Radar,
Excepter,
Pulsallama,
Rosa Yemen,
Sparks,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Johnny Osbourne,
Neu!,
The Birthday Party,
Eve St. Jones,
Angry Samoans,
Hoover,
Stiv Bators,
Tom Boy,
Gang Gang Dance,
KRS-One,
Nick Fraelich,
Aloha Tigers,
Pussy Galore,
Ituana,
Guru Guru,
Minny Pops,
Joyce Sims,
Pantaleimon,
Maurizio,
Sun City Girls,
Boz Scaggs,
Blossom Toes,
Andrew Hill,
Delta 5,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
These Immortal Souls,
Matthew Halsall,
Motorama,
Al Stewart,
London Community Gospel Choir,
World's Most,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Moody Blues,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
John Holt,
Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry.
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.