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 Nigeria and from Mexico City.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Reuben Wilson to the funk 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 The Fuzztones. All the underground hits.
All Index tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pet Shop Boys record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Babytalk record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slick Rick,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Joy Division,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Model 500,
Robert Görl,
Technova,
Curtis Mayfield,
Camouflage,
The Monochrome Set,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Motorama,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Ronan,
Joe Finger,
June Days,
Lightning Bolt,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Kaleidoscope,
The Gap Band,
Andrew Hill,
Liliput,
Make Up,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
B.T. Express,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
World's Most,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Flesh Eaters,
Faust,
Pulsallama,
Khruangbin,
Oblivians,
Jandek,
Tears for Fears,
Aural Exciters,
The Stooges,
The Tremeloes,
Ten City,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Real Kids,
the Swans,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Duran Duran,
Franke,
Donny Hathaway,
Mr. Review,
Cluster,
The Five Americans,
Colin Newman,
Adolescents,
Infiniti,
Angry Samoans,
FM Einheit,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Dirtbombs,
DJ Sneak,
Country Teasers,
Ultra Naté,
Bluetip,
Inner City, Inner City, Inner City, Inner City.
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.