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 Grenada and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Music Machine to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Five Americans. All the underground hits.
All The Alarm Clocks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Agitation Free 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jeff Lynne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Circle Jerks,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Angry Samoans,
Albert Ayler,
The Pretty Things,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Camouflage,
Faust,
Hoover,
The American Breed,
Television,
The Real Kids,
Duran Duran,
Chris & Cosey,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Loose Ends,
The Misunderstood,
Camberwell Now,
Vainqueur,
Interpol,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Cal Tjader,
Suburban Knight,
Sexual Harrassment,
The J.B.'s,
Kenny Larkin,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Cramps,
The Gladiators,
Moby Grape,
The Fuzztones,
Y Pants,
Thee Headcoats,
Index,
Bauhaus,
The Young Rascals,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Marcia Griffiths,
Boredoms,
Ice-T,
Lindisfarne,
Fluxion,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Victims,
Sex Pistols,
Amon Düül,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Scion,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Deepchord,
a-ha,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Jeff Mills,
Mandrill,
The Wake,
Judy Mowatt,
Pole, Pole, Pole, Pole.
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.