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 Indonesia and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Searchers to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 48th St. Collective. All the underground hits.
All Tubeway Army tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stereo Dub record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 güiro and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Mark Hollis,
Kool Moe Dee,
Black Flag,
Q65,
The Techniques,
Yusef Lateef,
Anakelly,
Cluster,
The Detroit Cobras,
Ronnie Foster,
The Neon Judgement,
Electric Prunes,
Marine Girls,
Ultimate Spinach,
Fear,
Isaac Hayes,
Mantronix,
Slave,
Cal Tjader,
H. Thieme,
Lou Reed,
The Dirtbombs,
Crash Course in Science,
Duran Duran,
Japan,
the Normal,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
New York Dolls,
ABBA,
One Last Wish,
Sexual Harrassment,
Wasted Youth,
Arcadia,
48th St. Collective,
Inner City,
Adolescents,
The Last Poets,
Qualms,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Godley & Creme,
The Toasters,
Skriet,
Al Stewart,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Minor Threat,
Mad Mike,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Wire,
The Moody Blues,
Main Source,
PIL,
Blake Baxter,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Jawbox,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Mojo Men,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Pantaleimon,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Das Ding,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Motorama, Motorama, Motorama, Motorama.
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.