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 Hungary and from Paris.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 arpeggiator 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 Nico to the funk 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 Ultimate Spinach. All the underground hits.
All Skriet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Foxx record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Traffic Nightmare,
Fat Boys,
E-Dancer,
The Victims,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Colin Newman,
Dawn Penn,
This Heat,
Clear Light,
The Move,
Soft Cell,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Ornette Coleman,
Outsiders,
Arcadia,
Reagan Youth,
Deepchord,
Nick Fraelich,
Inner City,
Soft Machine,
Deadbeat,
These Immortal Souls,
Simply Red,
Hardrive,
Talk Talk,
Sixth Finger,
R.M.O.,
Roxette,
Hasil Adkins,
Grey Daturas,
Brothers Johnson,
Judy Mowatt,
U.S. Maple,
FM Einheit,
Bush Tetras,
Sexual Harrassment,
X-Ray Spex,
Echospace,
Supertramp,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Pole,
Big Daddy Kane,
Scrapy,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Alarm Clocks,
Loose Ends,
Magazine,
Infiniti,
Donald Byrd,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Ronan,
The Skatalites,
Derrick Morgan,
Marine Girls,
The Last Poets,
Swans,
Dorothy Ashby,
Malaria!,
DJ Style,
a-ha, a-ha, a-ha, a-ha.
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.