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 Burundi and from New York.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
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 Connie Case 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 Chrome. All the underground hits.
All R.M.O. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every De La Soul & Jungle Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pantytec,
Lebanon Hanover,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sarah Menescal,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Tears for Fears,
Funky Four + One,
Sex Pistols,
The Dirtbombs,
Yusef Lateef,
Minnie Riperton,
The Grass Roots,
The Doors,
Soul II Soul,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Rod Modell,
the Germs,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Girls At Our Best!,
the Fania All-Stars,
the Association,
ABC,
Gang of Four,
Derrick May,
Fluxion,
Arab on Radar,
Oneida,
Angry Samoans,
The Stooges,
Dennis Brown,
Matthew Bourne,
Alphaville,
D'Angelo,
Darondo,
Kayak,
The Slits,
F. McDonald,
New Order,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Monolake,
Bob Dylan,
Barclay James Harvest,
Accadde A,
Sight & Sound,
Ludus,
Black Bananas,
Iggy Pop,
Country Teasers,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Jeff Mills,
Symarip,
Lightning Bolt,
Fela Kuti,
X-102,
Buzzcocks,
T. Rex,
Pole,
Gang Green,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Sixth Finger,
Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks.
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.