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 South Africa and from Manchester.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Wolf Eyes to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 China Crisis. All the underground hits.
All Chris & Cosey tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Almond record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tommy Roe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June of 44,
Simply Red,
Fela Kuti,
Liliput,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Black Sheep,
ABBA,
Rhythm & Sound,
Sonny Sharrock,
the Sonics,
Avey Tare,
the Association,
Organ,
Erasure,
X-101,
Youth Brigade,
The Dirtbombs,
Johnny Osbourne,
Jesper Dahlback,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Easy Going,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Loose Ends,
Graham Central Station,
The Motions,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Yellowson,
Das Ding,
Ultravox,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Wire,
Blossom Toes,
Aloha Tigers,
Clear Light,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Surgeon,
Visage,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Funkadelic,
Lungfish,
Henry Cow,
Brick,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Procol Harum,
T. Rex,
Jimmy McGriff,
Camouflage,
EPMD,
Minor Threat,
Donald Byrd,
Whodini,
Yazoo,
Lower 48,
Minnie Riperton,
The Music Machine,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Boogie Down Productions,
In Retrospect,
Groovy Waters,
Nils Olav,
Maleditus Sound,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana.
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.