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 Somalia and from Hong Kong.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the oboe 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 Smog to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Robert Wyatt. All the underground hits.
All Erykah Badu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roy Ayers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 a chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Porter Ricks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ronnie Foster,
World's Most,
Soft Cell,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Black Pus,
Tomorrow,
Kurtis Blow,
Hoover,
Nation of Ulysses,
Slick Rick,
EPMD,
The Moleskins,
Symarip,
The Cramps,
Eric Dolphy,
Lucky Dragons,
DJ Sneak,
Section 25,
The Red Krayola,
kango's stein massive,
Scrapy,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Kaleidoscope,
Cal Tjader,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Litter,
Swans,
Massinfluence,
Loose Ends,
Malaria!,
Sugar Minott,
Depeche Mode,
The Gap Band,
Minor Threat,
Ultra Naté,
Average White Band,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Matthew Bourne,
Throbbing Gristle,
Judy Mowatt,
Rapeman,
The Dead C,
Jandek,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Pet Shop Boys,
the Swans,
Yellowson,
Rod Modell,
Basic Channel,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Black Dice,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Morten Harket,
Nick Fraelich,
Gil Scott Heron,
Eddi Front,
Absolute Body Control,
The Slits,
Sixth Finger,
Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn.
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.