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 Benin and from Cairo.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 mellotron 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 Bill Wells to the disco 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 X-Ray Spex. All the underground hits.
All Ossler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fifty Foot Hose record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Red Krayola,
Dead Boys,
This Heat,
Harpers Bizarre,
Spandau Ballet,
The Neon Judgement,
Silicon Teens,
Gabor Szabo,
Bobby Womack,
The Vogues,
Flipper,
T. Rex,
Drive Like Jehu,
Boz Scaggs,
Vladislav Delay,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Harry Pussy,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
FM Einheit,
Joey Negro,
Crispian St. Peters,
Janne Schatter,
Toni Rubio,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Tom Boy,
Isaac Hayes,
Gastr Del Sol,
L. Decosne,
Funkadelic,
Pharoah Sanders,
Gerry Rafferty,
Ultravox,
Mission of Burma,
Minny Pops,
Anthony Braxton,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Lebanon Hanover,
Ludus,
The Mojo Men,
Johnny Clarke,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Arthur Verocai,
Derrick Morgan,
Nas,
Black Moon,
Ken Boothe,
DNA,
Country Teasers,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Marshall Jefferson,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Zeros,
Moebius,
The Searchers,
Livin' Joy,
Ralphi Rosario,
Idris Muhammad,
Dennis Brown,
Ornette Coleman,
The Walker Brothers, The Walker Brothers, The Walker Brothers, The Walker Brothers.
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.