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 Bahamas and from Paris.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 synthesizer 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 Slave to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 The Knickerbockers. All the underground hits.
All The Grass Roots tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lafayette Afro Rock Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sällskapet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
China Crisis,
Parry Music,
The Detroit Cobras,
Agitation Free,
Gregory Isaacs,
Blossom Toes,
Television Personalities,
The Sound,
Jawbox,
Minny Pops,
The Wake,
Nas,
The Associates,
Eric B and Rakim,
Steve Hackett,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Jerry Gold Smith,
the Human League,
Monks,
Audionom,
Moby Grape,
The Shadows of Knight,
Gang Green,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Litter,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Tim Buckley,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Public Image Ltd.,
Zapp,
Ultra Naté,
R.M.O.,
Tropical Tobacco,
Black Moon,
Ponytail,
Man Eating Sloth,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Reuben Wilson,
Suicide,
Soft Machine,
John Lydon,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Deadbeat,
Lou Christie,
Matthew Bourne,
Erasure,
Neil Young,
AZ,
Stetsasonic,
John Foxx,
Mad Mike,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Smiths,
Little Man,
Shuggie Otis,
Bobby Sherman,
The Cure,
Toni Rubio,
Cheater Slicks,
L. Decosne,
Pole,
the Sonics, the Sonics, the Sonics, the Sonics.
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.