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 Bulgaria and from Calgary.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Severed Heads to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Jesper Dahlbäck. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Spoonie Gee 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Connie Case record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suicide,
Blake Baxter,
Ken Boothe,
Minnie Riperton,
MDC,
The Count Five,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Litter,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Sonics,
The Techniques,
H. Thieme,
Gastr Del Sol,
Chris Corsano,
Urselle,
a-ha,
Erykah Badu,
Franke,
James White and The Blacks,
Eve St. Jones,
Hashim,
Minutemen,
Delta 5,
F. McDonald,
Wire,
Ituana,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Gang Starr,
Glenn Branca,
The Stooges,
Yazoo,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Victims,
Girls At Our Best!,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Loose Ends,
Archie Shepp,
The Zeros,
Mo-Dettes,
Skriet,
The Remains,
Ornette Coleman,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Rosa Yemen,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
K-Klass,
Blossom Toes,
Scrapy,
R.M.O.,
The Motions,
Zero Boys,
Fad Gadget,
Banda Bassotti,
the Soft Cell,
Thompson Twins,
The Velvet Underground,
Gichy Dan,
Desert Stars,
Circle Jerks,
Brass Construction,
The Standells,
John Coltrane, John Coltrane, John Coltrane, John Coltrane.
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.