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 Vietnam and from Woodstock.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 synthesizer 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 Icehouse to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Wings. All the underground hits.
All the Sonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cluster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 marimba and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a MDC record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pet Shop Boys,
Scratch Acid,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
FM Einheit,
Rod Modell,
Symarip,
Fela Kuti,
Sound Behaviour,
Eddi Front,
Ossler,
The Litter,
James White and The Blacks,
Jacob Miller,
Make Up,
the Bar-Kays,
Basic Channel,
Jacques Brel,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Cymande,
Monolake,
Au Pairs,
Visage,
Ice-T,
Scientists,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Fugs,
Big Daddy Kane,
Inner City,
The Names,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Beau Brummels,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Rekid,
La Düsseldorf,
Duran Duran,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Idris Muhammad,
Quadrant,
Moby Grape,
Whodini,
T. Rex,
Wally Richardson,
Iggy Pop,
Harry Pussy,
Scrapy,
Bobby Sherman,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Pretty Things,
The Busters,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Ohio Players,
The Moody Blues,
Porter Ricks,
John Cale,
Tears for Fears,
The Doobie Brothers,
Joe Smooth,
The Divine Comedy,
Funky Four + One,
Severed Heads, Severed Heads, Severed Heads, Severed Heads.
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.