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 Cameroon and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 Robert Palmer 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 Soft Cell to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Alice Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All Mr. Review tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Underground Resistance 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sun Ra Arkestra record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gerry Rafferty,
Alice Coltrane,
Warsaw,
The Flesh Eaters,
Franke,
Joyce Sims,
The Moody Blues,
Audionom,
Max Romeo,
Chris & Cosey,
Johnny Clarke,
Sight & Sound,
Swans,
Drive Like Jehu,
Masters at Work,
Malaria!,
Y Pants,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Sandy B,
Nik Kershaw,
The Real Kids,
Frankie Knuckles,
Jerry's Kids,
Sonny Sharrock,
Pagans,
Gichy Dan,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Index,
Iggy Pop,
The Modern Lovers,
Slick Rick,
Dennis Brown,
Royal Trux,
Circle Jerks,
The Trojans,
Organ,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Man Parrish,
the Normal,
Fear,
The American Breed,
Crooked Eye,
Con Funk Shun,
Arcadia,
Schoolly D,
Tears for Fears,
Blancmange,
Smog,
Tropical Tobacco,
Bizarre Inc.,
Pussy Galore,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Ornette Coleman,
New York Dolls,
Radio Birdman,
Dark Day,
The New Christs,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Happenings,
Eric B and Rakim,
Pere Ubu,
Lou Reed,
Sex Pistols,
ABBA, ABBA, ABBA, ABBA.
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.