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 Ghana and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Kings Of Tomorrow to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Simply Red. All the underground hits.
All Can tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arthur Verocai record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultimate Spinach record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scott Walker,
Pole,
Pantaleimon,
Erasure,
Anakelly,
Ohio Players,
Country Joe & The Fish,
the Association,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Slits,
ABC,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Bill Wells,
Fluxion,
Half Japanese,
Intrusion,
David McCallum,
E-Dancer,
Swell Maps,
Michelle Simonal,
Pussy Galore,
Tim Buckley,
Aural Exciters,
New Age Steppers,
Stetsasonic,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Blancmange,
Mission of Burma,
The Saints,
Bronski Beat,
Boogie Down Productions,
Marcia Griffiths,
Audionom,
kango's stein massive,
Visage,
The Music Machine,
Tommy Roe,
This Heat,
Slick Rick,
Ronnie Foster,
The Busters,
Josef K,
Yellowson,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Kaleidoscope,
The Modern Lovers,
Warsaw,
In Retrospect,
The Fortunes,
Gang of Four,
Angry Samoans,
a-ha,
Masters at Work,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Velvet Underground,
Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics.
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.