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 Congo and from Edmonton.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the snare 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 The Moody Blues to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell. All the underground hits.
All Nas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pulsallama record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Funkadelic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
MC5,
The Residents,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Wire,
Kurtis Blow,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Cure,
Grandmaster Flash,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Altered Images,
Soulsonic Force,
Unrelated Segments,
Marvin Gaye,
The Black Dice,
Mantronix,
Dual Sessions,
The Durutti Column,
Al Stewart,
The Sonics,
R.M.O.,
Severed Heads,
Easy Going,
The Remains,
The Standells,
A Certain Ratio,
The Moleskins,
Bush Tetras,
Albert Ayler,
Don Cherry,
Skaos,
Wings,
Y Pants,
Popol Vuh,
the Soft Cell,
Arcadia,
Erykah Badu,
Anakelly,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Scan 7,
David Bowie,
Reuben Wilson,
The Count Five,
KRS-One,
Bad Manners,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Jerry's Kids,
Crooked Eye,
Fela Kuti,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Doors,
Porter Ricks,
The Pop Group,
Jacques Brel,
Gerry Rafferty,
Von Mondo,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Marc Almond, Marc Almond, Marc Almond, Marc Almond.
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.