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 Comoros and from Shanghai.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 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 Spandau Ballet to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Fat Boys. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Flesh Eaters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gladiators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Coltrane,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Fluxion,
Rhythm & Sound,
Todd Rundgren,
The Techniques,
Terry Callier,
Cheater Slicks,
The Smoke,
CMW,
the Soft Cell,
Faust,
Donald Byrd,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Aaron Thompson,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Avey Tare,
Mantronix,
The Modern Lovers,
Whodini,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Zeros,
Crime,
Marvin Gaye,
The Monochrome Set,
Mad Mike,
Pierre Henry,
Mark Hollis,
The Standells,
Curtis Mayfield,
Barclay James Harvest,
MC5,
Nik Kershaw,
Harry Pussy,
Peter and Kerry,
Eric B and Rakim,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Walker Brothers,
Banda Bassotti,
Bronski Beat,
Stockholm Monsters,
Joey Negro,
The Litter,
The Move,
The Raincoats,
June of 44,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Icehouse,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Black Dice,
Lyres,
Gregory Isaacs,
Morten Harket,
Sarah Menescal,
Yaz,
Johnny Clarke,
Al Stewart,
The Trojans,
Suburban Knight,
H. Thieme,
The Moleskins,
Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee.
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.