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 Kuwait and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 güiro 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 Funkadelic to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Be Bop Deluxe. All the underground hits.
All Juan Atkins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tres Demented 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 snare and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Surgeon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Neon Judgement,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Reuben Wilson,
Rekid,
Crispian St. Peters,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Ultra Naté,
Underground Resistance,
The Move,
Black Pus,
Joey Negro,
Archie Shepp,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Joe Finger,
Matthew Bourne,
Juan Atkins,
Thee Headcoats,
Oblivians,
Alphaville,
Godley & Creme,
Sonny Sharrock,
Steve Hackett,
Babytalk,
The Searchers,
The Real Kids,
Wire,
This Heat,
Panda Bear,
Newcleus,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Robert Görl,
Derrick Morgan,
Todd Terry,
Quando Quango,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Banda Bassotti,
Tears for Fears,
Television Personalities,
Lindisfarne,
Guru Guru,
The Human League,
Boz Scaggs,
Funkadelic,
Fad Gadget,
Visage,
Throbbing Gristle,
Arthur Verocai,
Sällskapet,
The Blues Magoos,
James White and The Blacks,
The Kinks,
Minor Threat,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Vladislav Delay,
China Crisis,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Television,
Khruangbin,
The Trojans,
Judy Mowatt,
Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco.
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.