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 Australia and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 organ 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 Niagra to the punk 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch. All the underground hits.
All The Peanut Butter Conspiracy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every H. Thieme record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Aural Exciters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slits,
Sällskapet,
Minor Threat,
The J.B.'s,
the Slits,
Spandau Ballet,
Morten Harket,
The Toasters,
Marvin Gaye,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Smiths,
Deepchord,
The Fuzztones,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Divine Comedy,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Mr. Review,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Drexciya,
Nik Kershaw,
Television,
The Dave Clark Five,
Gastr Del Sol,
Hot Snakes,
the Germs,
Soft Machine,
Rites of Spring,
Kurtis Blow,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Wasted Youth,
Basic Channel,
Blake Baxter,
Lucky Dragons,
Brothers Johnson,
Fatback Band,
Roxy Music,
Audionom,
Funkadelic,
Fugazi,
Thompson Twins,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Lalann,
Animal Collective,
David Bowie,
Cybotron,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Dual Sessions,
Parry Music,
The Remains,
Glenn Branca,
Nils Olav,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Eden Ahbez,
Black Flag,
Swell Maps,
New Order,
Popol Vuh,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Clear Light,
The Cowsills,
Infiniti, Infiniti, Infiniti, Infiniti.
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.