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 Mauritius and from Columbus.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Althea and Donna to the disco 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 This Heat. All the underground hits.
All Carl Craig tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ossler 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultravox record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fatback Band,
Accadde A,
Mark Hollis,
Jacques Brel,
The Tremeloes,
Rites of Spring,
The Busters,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Sound Behaviour,
Aloha Tigers,
Amon Düül,
Johnny Clarke,
The Buckinghams,
Sam Rivers,
Pierre Henry,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Television Personalities,
The Grass Roots,
One Last Wish,
Howard Jones,
World's Most,
B.T. Express,
Erasure,
The Searchers,
Gastr Del Sol,
Harry Pussy,
Porter Ricks,
Excepter,
Bill Near,
Absolute Body Control,
Theoretical Girls,
Yellowson,
Tim Buckley,
Toni Rubio,
The Martian,
Smog,
Iggy Pop,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Interpol,
Guru Guru,
Lalo Schifrin,
JFA,
Fat Boys,
Suburban Knight,
Eurythmics,
Byron Stingily,
Lyres,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
DJ Sneak,
Soft Cell,
Yazoo,
Alton Ellis,
Whodini,
Index,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Bizarre Inc.,
Stereo Dub,
The Litter,
Bauhaus, Bauhaus, Bauhaus, Bauhaus.
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.