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 Guatemala and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Monks to the electroclash 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 The Neon Judgement. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Steve Hackett 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 synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soul II Soul record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Liliput,
Quadrant,
Bad Manners,
Bill Near,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Man Parrish,
Matthew Bourne,
The Human League,
The Slackers,
Pierre Henry,
Sandy B,
Nico,
D'Angelo,
Kenny Larkin,
Y Pants,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Sam Rivers,
Trumans Water,
The Neon Judgement,
The New Christs,
Loose Ends,
The Golliwogs,
Delon & Dalcan,
Negative Approach,
Model 500,
Grauzone,
Drive Like Jehu,
Howard Jones,
Adolescents,
Jandek,
Jerry's Kids,
Yusef Lateef,
Gil Scott Heron,
Sällskapet,
Avey Tare,
The Modern Lovers,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Country Teasers,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Connie Case,
Stockholm Monsters,
Sixth Finger,
The Cramps,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Johnny Clarke,
Stereo Dub,
Symarip,
Marine Girls,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Minnie Riperton,
Todd Terry,
Grandmaster Flash,
Khruangbin,
Sparks,
The American Breed,
MDC,
Eurythmics,
Fatback Band,
Infiniti,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Music Machine,
Alice Coltrane, Alice Coltrane, Alice Coltrane, Alice Coltrane.
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.