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 Russia and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 chamberlin 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 Eddi Front to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Arthur Verocai. All the underground hits.
All Red Lorry Yellow Lorry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sister Nancy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Girls At Our Best! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Agent Orange,
Pylon,
The Gun Club,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Technova,
Boz Scaggs,
Eric Copeland,
Scratch Acid,
New Age Steppers,
The Slackers,
Monks,
Bootsy Collins,
The Modern Lovers,
Pantytec,
Ponytail,
Nik Kershaw,
Scan 7,
The Moleskins,
Black Pus,
Godley & Creme,
Radiopuhelimet,
Skarface,
Skriet,
Angry Samoans,
Robert Hood,
Nick Fraelich,
Barclay James Harvest,
Lower 48,
The Dead C,
Josef K,
The Walker Brothers,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Deakin,
Marvin Gaye,
World's Most,
The Standells,
Cal Tjader,
Crooked Eye,
Aswad,
Bluetip,
John Cale,
Fad Gadget,
Massinfluence,
The Velvet Underground,
Grauzone,
Howard Jones,
Groovy Waters,
Archie Shepp,
Banda Bassotti,
In Retrospect,
Marmalade,
the Soft Cell,
Public Image Ltd.,
Procol Harum,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Minny Pops,
Barry Ungar,
Depeche Mode,
Danielle Patucci,
AZ, AZ, AZ, AZ.
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.