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 Bahamas and from Manchester.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Durutti Column to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 F. McDonald. All the underground hits.
All Vaughan Mason & Crew tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Parrish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Selecter,
Suicide,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Davy DMX,
The Smoke,
Circle Jerks,
Camberwell Now,
Archie Shepp,
The Smiths,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Surgeon,
Trumans Water,
Donny Hathaway,
Kurtis Blow,
The Electric Prunes,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Black Bananas,
Pantytec,
X-101,
Fela Kuti,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Sällskapet,
Index,
Sister Nancy,
The Tremeloes,
Roxette,
The Pretty Things,
Monolake,
Symarip,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Derrick May,
Sonny Sharrock,
Boredoms,
Pole,
Gerry Rafferty,
Donald Byrd,
Reagan Youth,
Oblivians,
Sight & Sound,
The Red Krayola,
Hoover,
Public Image Ltd.,
Spoonie Gee,
Max Romeo,
Stiv Bators,
Boogie Down Productions,
Rhythm & Sound,
Smog,
Joe Finger,
Marine Girls,
This Heat,
Sarah Menescal,
Maleditus Sound,
Lungfish,
Chrome,
Marmalade,
Faraquet,
Essential Logic, Essential Logic, Essential Logic, Essential Logic.
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.