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 Malaysia and from Manila.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Barry Ungar to the crunk 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 Soul Sonic Force. All the underground hits.
All Outsiders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Alarm Clocks 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 theremin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fat Boys,
Rotary Connection,
Spandau Ballet,
Gong,
Aloha Tigers,
Dorothy Ashby,
Graham Central Station,
Easy Going,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Cheater Slicks,
Blancmange,
Interpol,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
48th St. Collective,
Marshall Jefferson,
Soulsonic Force,
T. Rex,
Vainqueur,
Kevin Saunderson,
Procol Harum,
John Cale,
Tres Demented,
Second Layer,
Quadrant,
Motorama,
The Divine Comedy,
Wolf Eyes,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Lucky Dragons,
Arthur Verocai,
The Moleskins,
The Standells,
Index,
The Neon Judgement,
PIL,
Q65,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Index,
the Germs,
Thompson Twins,
a-ha,
David Axelrod,
Thee Headcoats,
Gang of Four,
the Slits,
LL Cool J,
The Pop Group,
The Slackers,
Neil Young,
The Black Dice,
Jeru the Damaja,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Roger Hodgson,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Stereo Dub,
Faraquet,
Model 500,
Wally Richardson,
Tim Buckley,
Wire,
Adolescents,
June Days,
Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios.
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.