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 Colombia and from Bologna.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Accra.
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 marimba 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 Crispy Ambulance to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Black Pus. All the underground hits.
All Eyeless In Gaza tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Spandau Ballet 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang of Four record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ralphi Rosario,
The Residents,
Fat Boys,
Technova,
Wally Richardson,
B.T. Express,
Rakim,
Monks,
DJ Sneak,
The Mummies,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Flash Fearless,
Arthur Verocai,
MDC,
Graham Central Station,
Nik Kershaw,
Glambeats Corp.,
Sällskapet,
The United States of America,
Harry Pussy,
Siglo XX,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Black Sheep,
Khruangbin,
Royal Trux,
Lou Christie,
The Five Americans,
Ludus,
Letta Mbulu,
Unwound,
Morten Harket,
Schoolly D,
UT,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Anakelly,
The Fugs,
F. McDonald,
X-101,
Half Japanese,
kango's stein massive,
Camouflage,
Con Funk Shun,
Slick Rick,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Audionom,
The Gories,
A Certain Ratio,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Howard Jones,
Spandau Ballet,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Stereo Dub,
The Pretty Things,
Yellowson,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
CMW,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Fuzztones,
The Wake,
Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter.
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.