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 Mali and from Paris.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Television Personalities to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Drive Like Jehu. All the underground hits.
All Minnie Riperton tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alice Coltrane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stockholm Monsters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cosmic Jokers,
Porter Ricks,
Lebanon Hanover,
David Axelrod,
Amazonics,
The Birthday Party,
Flash Fearless,
Yaz,
Los Fastidios,
Terry Callier,
The Detroit Cobras,
Aaron Thompson,
Q65,
A Certain Ratio,
The Offenders,
LL Cool J,
Susan Cadogan,
Black Bananas,
Maleditus Sound,
Magma,
Rapeman,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Barry Ungar,
Saccharine Trust,
Spoonie Gee,
Animal Collective,
The Names,
Delon & Dalcan,
Crooked Eye,
Altered Images,
Yellowson,
Urselle,
Subhumans,
Althea and Donna,
Max Romeo,
U.S. Maple,
The Red Krayola,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Unrelated Segments,
New York Dolls,
Ronan,
Gang of Four,
Boogie Down Productions,
Rotary Connection,
The Grass Roots,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Real Kids,
Mr. Review,
Camouflage,
Flamin' Groovies,
Eric Copeland,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Walker Brothers,
Warren Ellis,
Carl Craig,
Faust,
Sandy B,
China Crisis,
Idris Muhammad,
The Fugs,
Desert Stars,
The Modern Lovers,
Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu.
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.