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 Moldova and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Oppenheimer Analysis to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Detroit Cobras. All the underground hits.
All Glenn Branca tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eurythmics record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 synthesizer and a theremin 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 chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Khruangbin,
The Moody Blues,
Frankie Knuckles,
In Retrospect,
The Blues Magoos,
MC5,
Suburban Knight,
The Mighty Diamonds,
8 Eyed Spy,
Loose Ends,
Wolf Eyes,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Tears for Fears,
Sixth Finger,
Underground Resistance,
The Kinks,
Gichy Dan,
Sex Pistols,
The Cure,
Pierre Henry,
Rapeman,
Ten City,
Ralphi Rosario,
Drive Like Jehu,
Mars,
KRS-One,
Slave,
The Golliwogs,
Sarah Menescal,
Yusef Lateef,
Gastr Del Sol,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
John Coltrane,
Donny Hathaway,
AZ,
The Names,
Suicide,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
ABBA,
The Leaves,
Outsiders,
Lalann,
Pulsallama,
Whodini,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Pussy Galore,
Brick,
10cc,
Y Pants,
Rod Modell,
Reuben Wilson,
Grauzone,
Moss Icon,
Howard Jones,
Fear,
Monks,
Ponytail,
Byron Stingily,
Sonic Youth,
The Gladiators,
The Stooges, The Stooges, The Stooges, The Stooges.
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.