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 Guatemala and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Big Daddy Kane to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Aloha Tigers. All the underground hits.
All Minutemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Model 500 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Theoretical Girls,
The Cramps,
AZ,
Lalann,
Eric B and Rakim,
Niagra,
Kerri Chandler,
The Fortunes,
Bronski Beat,
The Wake,
Lungfish,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Joyce Sims,
Roxy Music,
Supertramp,
Derrick Morgan,
The Music Machine,
Model 500,
Cal Tjader,
Deadbeat,
Kas Product,
Can,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Stetsasonic,
Bootsy Collins,
Roger Hodgson,
Lindisfarne,
Dennis Brown,
Eurythmics,
Brothers Johnson,
Motorama,
Alphaville,
MC5,
Tom Boy,
The Zeros,
Fad Gadget,
Angry Samoans,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Carl Craig,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Nick Fraelich,
Sister Nancy,
Frankie Knuckles,
Grey Daturas,
Al Stewart,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Fatback Band,
Nas,
Fugazi,
The Smoke,
The Sonics,
Joy Division,
The Saints,
Subhumans,
Pet Shop Boys,
Public Image Ltd.,
Radio Birdman,
Andrew Hill,
Zapp,
Los Fastidios,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters.
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.