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 Iceland and from Houston.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Sexual Harrassment to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Lou Reed & John Cale. All the underground hits.
All Lakeside tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rhythm & Sound 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wolf Eyes,
Sparks,
Ultra Naté,
Curtis Mayfield,
Jawbox,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Stetsasonic,
Mark Hollis,
Underground Resistance,
Monolake,
The American Breed,
Mo-Dettes,
Bobby Hutcherson,
H. Thieme,
Rosa Yemen,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Leaves,
Mandrill,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Bobby Sherman,
The Star Department,
Rakim,
Bobby Womack,
Severed Heads,
Yazoo,
Ituana,
The Real Kids,
Kerrie Biddell,
Gichy Dan,
Flamin' Groovies,
KRS-One,
Cluster,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Lou Christie,
Joey Negro,
Quadrant,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Minor Threat,
Moebius,
U.S. Maple,
Groovy Waters,
Scan 7,
Sonny Sharrock,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
La Düsseldorf,
Pierre Henry,
The Buckinghams,
Terry Callier,
Jacques Brel,
The Litter,
Bronski Beat,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Sexual Harrassment,
Deakin,
Y Pants,
The Associates,
Malaria!,
Black Bananas,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Peter & Gordon,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
The Golliwogs, The Golliwogs, The Golliwogs, The Golliwogs.
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.