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 Lebanon and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 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 Bootsy's Rubber Band to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Nation of Ulysses. All the underground hits.
All Chrome tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Neon Judgement 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a F. McDonald record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hot Snakes,
Ultra Naté,
Jacques Brel,
Eddi Front,
Tears for Fears,
Brass Construction,
Jerry's Kids,
Zero Boys,
Pet Shop Boys,
Derrick Morgan,
The Durutti Column,
Anakelly,
Cecil Taylor,
Lou Reed,
Scientists,
Saccharine Trust,
Minutemen,
T.S.O.L.,
Amon Düül II,
Wire,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Fortunes,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Fela Kuti,
Steve Hackett,
Vainqueur,
Marcia Griffiths,
Bang On A Can,
Maleditus Sound,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
E-Dancer,
Cameo,
Tommy Roe,
The Neon Judgement,
The Black Dice,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Kaleidoscope,
the Sonics,
Scratch Acid,
Don Cherry,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Simply Red,
Guru Guru,
Loose Ends,
Wasted Youth,
The Gun Club,
Y Pants,
Hashim,
Robert Hood,
Whodini,
ABC,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Electric Prunes,
The Wake,
Jerry Gold Smith,
James White and The Blacks,
Sex Pistols,
The New Christs,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Warsaw,
Carl Craig,
The Gap Band, The Gap Band, The Gap Band, The Gap Band.
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.