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 Ethiopia and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 Captain Beefheart 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 Terry Callier to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Audionom. All the underground hits.
All Echo & the Bunnymen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Barracudas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rod Modell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Blues Magoos,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Wasted Youth,
Laurel Aitken,
Sound Behaviour,
Scion,
Pet Shop Boys,
Al Stewart,
Jeru the Damaja,
Slave,
Sun Ra,
Dorothy Ashby,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Angry Samoans,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Das Ding,
Neil Young,
Mantronix,
Howard Jones,
Monks,
Flipper,
Harry Pussy,
Piero Umiliani,
Sex Pistols,
Black Bananas,
Stockholm Monsters,
Dennis Brown,
The Last Poets,
Parry Music,
Roger Hodgson,
Skriet,
World's Most,
James White and The Blacks,
Eddi Front,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Scratch Acid,
Maurizio,
Pere Ubu,
B.T. Express,
Jeff Mills,
Mission of Burma,
The Real Kids,
Roxette,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Accadde A,
Boogie Down Productions,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Royal Trux,
Dark Day,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Fela Kuti,
Rapeman,
Henry Cow,
Warsaw,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Robert Görl,
Bill Wells,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Human League,
Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne.
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.