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 Mozambique 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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the sitar 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 The Monks to the disco 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 The Royal Family And The Poor. All the underground hits.
All Soul II Soul tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every kango's stein massive 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a A Certain Ratio record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Severed Heads,
Barrington Levy,
The Cramps,
R.M.O.,
The Flesh Eaters,
D'Angelo,
Neil Young,
Icehouse,
A Flock of Seagulls,
A Certain Ratio,
Maleditus Sound,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Marine Girls,
Peter and Kerry,
Chris & Cosey,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Eurythmics,
Blossom Toes,
The Music Machine,
The Saints,
Arab on Radar,
ABBA,
L. Decosne,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Warren Ellis,
Bluetip,
Main Source,
Bob Dylan,
DNA,
Derrick Morgan,
The Names,
the Association,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
New Age Steppers,
Kurtis Blow,
Tears for Fears,
Black Sheep,
The Gladiators,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Delta 5,
The Fall,
Matthew Bourne,
Ken Boothe,
Technova,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Derrick May,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Faraquet,
Lungfish,
Cabaret Voltaire,
James White and The Blacks,
Cheater Slicks,
Kool Moe Dee,
Letta Mbulu,
Young Marble Giants,
Cecil Taylor,
The Dave Clark Five,
Nik Kershaw,
The Skatalites, The Skatalites, The Skatalites, The Skatalites.
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.