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 Lesotho and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 organ 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 Curtis Mayfield to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Tremeloes. All the underground hits.
All Bill Wells tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radiohead record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Starr record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rites of Spring,
Half Japanese,
The Moleskins,
The Star Department,
Ronan,
Lyres,
Gong,
Joensuu 1685,
The Toasters,
The Tremeloes,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Gang Gang Dance,
the Soft Cell,
Aloha Tigers,
Moebius,
Kenny Larkin,
John Cale,
Duran Duran,
The Gories,
H. Thieme,
EPMD,
The Alarm Clocks,
Graham Central Station,
Lalo Schifrin,
kango's stein massive,
Aswad,
The Dead C,
The Human League,
The Techniques,
Loose Ends,
Kerrie Biddell,
Boz Scaggs,
Pussy Galore,
Morten Harket,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
David Bowie,
The Fall,
Arthur Verocai,
Eli Mardock,
The Shadows of Knight,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Echospace,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Porter Ricks,
Y Pants,
Bronski Beat,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Doors,
Vainqueur,
The Flesh Eaters,
Pere Ubu,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Thompson Twins,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Los Fastidios,
Idris Muhammad,
Reagan Youth,
Make Up,
Drexciya,
Zapp,
Chrome,
Derrick Morgan,
Suburban Knight,
Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne.
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.