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 Afghanistan and from Shanghai.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Nas 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 A Certain Ratio. All the underground hits.
All T. Rex tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Angels of Light record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Swans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DJ Sneak,
Black Bananas,
The Divine Comedy,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Intrusion,
Bluetip,
Babytalk,
Blake Baxter,
Josef K,
the Swans,
Icehouse,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Nik Kershaw,
Amazonics,
The Fortunes,
The Names,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Leaves,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Marine Girls,
Gabor Szabo,
Das Ding,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Gang Gang Dance,
Bobby Womack,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Sound Behaviour,
Stetsasonic,
The Grass Roots,
Agitation Free,
Cluster,
Inner City,
Tim Buckley,
Rekid,
10cc,
Fort Wilson Riot,
John Holt,
The Cowsills,
Rhythm & Sound,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Sugar Minott,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Panda Bear,
Yaz,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Knickerbockers,
Moby Grape,
Robert Görl,
Bill Near,
Henry Cow,
David Axelrod,
Harmonia,
Subhumans,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Fire Engines,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Sam Rivers,
June of 44,
Connie Case,
Ornette Coleman,
The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke.
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.