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 Bangladesh and from Shanghai.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 A Flock of Seagulls to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Count Five. All the underground hits.
All Alton Ellis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lindisfarne 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Accadde A record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Organ,
The Blackbyrds,
Camberwell Now,
Stereo Dub,
Big Daddy Kane,
Half Japanese,
New York Dolls,
Funkadelic,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Lakeside,
The Names,
Inner City,
Aswad,
Reagan Youth,
Oneida,
Ornette Coleman,
The Remains,
Grandmaster Flash,
Animal Collective,
Mars,
Jesper Dahlback,
Bill Wells,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Dual Sessions,
Dawn Penn,
The Toasters,
The Invisible,
the Human League,
Index,
The Slits,
Smog,
The Busters,
Skaos,
Easy Going,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
the Slits,
Make Up,
Josef K,
ABC,
Second Layer,
Swans,
Tim Buckley,
Con Funk Shun,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Monks,
Kaleidoscope,
Country Teasers,
Bang On A Can,
Skarface,
The Alarm Clocks,
Malaria!,
Tomorrow,
U.S. Maple,
Dennis Brown,
Peter and Kerry,
Essential Logic,
Wire,
Aloha Tigers,
Angry Samoans,
The Martian,
Bad Manners,
Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman.
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.