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 Madagascar 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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Scott Walker to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Fad Gadget. All the underground hits.
All John Holt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gerry Rafferty record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Derrick Morgan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Neon Judgement,
Rakim,
Khruangbin,
The Saints,
Hashim,
Johnny Clarke,
Vainqueur,
Ituana,
In Retrospect,
Graham Central Station,
Talk Talk,
Unrelated Segments,
Fugazi,
Mary Jane Girls,
Lightning Bolt,
Ludus,
Tom Boy,
Au Pairs,
Pierre Henry,
Newcleus,
Das Ding,
These Immortal Souls,
U.S. Maple,
Yusef Lateef,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Connie Case,
The Techniques,
Tomorrow,
Soulsonic Force,
Black Pus,
FM Einheit,
Gil Scott Heron,
Electric Prunes,
Lungfish,
Ten City,
Y Pants,
Kas Product,
Barclay James Harvest,
Amon Düül II,
Sex Pistols,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Dennis Brown,
Neil Young,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Black Moon,
The Offenders,
Slave,
Nico,
Arcadia,
The Busters,
Black Bananas,
Kerri Chandler,
Bronski Beat,
Boredoms,
Peter and Kerry,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Alice Coltrane,
Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman.
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.