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 Palau and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 J.B.'s to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 T. Rex. All the underground hits.
All The Trojans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Chocolate Watch Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Josef K record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Martian,
Eddi Front,
Talk Talk,
Bush Tetras,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Cecil Taylor,
Chrome,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Eden Ahbez,
The Moody Blues,
Rufus Thomas,
Harpers Bizarre,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Nico,
Suburban Knight,
Mandrill,
Pere Ubu,
Zapp,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Delon & Dalcan,
Intrusion,
Man Parrish,
Adolescents,
Laurel Aitken,
Susan Cadogan,
The Blues Magoos,
Lou Reed,
Sällskapet,
The Alarm Clocks,
Excepter,
Ultra Naté,
Index,
Crash Course in Science,
Flamin' Groovies,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
8 Eyed Spy,
Unwound,
John Holt,
Cameo,
Porter Ricks,
Isaac Hayes,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Soft Cell,
Barrington Levy,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Smog,
Barclay James Harvest,
Amon Düül,
Gang Starr,
Average White Band,
Cybotron,
Johnny Osbourne,
Brand Nubian,
Minny Pops,
Panda Bear,
Shuggie Otis,
The Searchers,
Amazonics,
Kaleidoscope,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles.
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.