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 Latvia and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 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 Fugazi to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Rod Modell. All the underground hits.
All Soul Sonic Force tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 marimba and a guitar 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 arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nik Kershaw,
Harpers Bizarre,
Pulsallama,
X-Ray Spex,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Durutti Column,
David McCallum,
Patti Smith,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Can,
Tears for Fears,
Rakim,
Amon Düül II,
Gang of Four,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Young Marble Giants,
Arab on Radar,
Donald Byrd,
Charles Mingus,
Mission of Burma,
Stiv Bators,
The Names,
Roxette,
Johnny Osbourne,
Roger Hodgson,
Peter and Kerry,
Sight & Sound,
Dark Day,
Lakeside,
Smog,
Joey Negro,
Echospace,
Jeff Lynne,
Fatback Band,
The Vogues,
The Detroit Cobras,
Shoche,
Barbara Tucker,
Soft Machine,
Peter & Gordon,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Blues Magoos,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Sound Behaviour,
The Real Kids,
10cc,
The Busters,
Dead Boys,
Deadbeat,
Heaven 17,
Godley & Creme,
Archie Shepp,
Agent Orange,
Ice-T,
Eve St. Jones,
Suburban Knight,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Tubeway Army,
The Doobie Brothers,
Swans,
Flipper, Flipper, Flipper, Flipper.
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.