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 Solomon Islands and from Portland.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 Captain Beefheart 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 Boredoms to the techno 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 The Golliwogs. All the underground hits.
All Quantec tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Black Dice record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Manfred Mann's Earth Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba 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 Misunderstood,
Robert Görl,
OOIOO,
Thompson Twins,
Lucky Dragons,
Suicide,
The Divine Comedy,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Soft Cell,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Lungfish,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Icehouse,
Fela Kuti,
Joe Smooth,
The Gap Band,
The Alarm Clocks,
Rapeman,
Wolf Eyes,
Sound Behaviour,
48th St. Collective,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Index,
Groovy Waters,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Fugazi,
The Count Five,
Gerry Rafferty,
Interpol,
Traffic Nightmare,
Marine Girls,
Letta Mbulu,
Ronan,
Anthony Braxton,
Cluster,
Motorama,
The Gladiators,
The Fall,
Skarface,
Ash Ra Tempel,
John Holt,
Babytalk,
Lindisfarne,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Agent Orange,
X-102,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Model 500,
Deepchord,
Kenny Larkin,
Jacob Miller,
Urselle,
Popol Vuh,
Shuggie Otis,
Barbara Tucker,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Gories,
Nas,
The Dave Clark Five,
Adolescents,
Ohio Players,
Nirvana,
Moby Grape, Moby Grape, Moby Grape, Moby Grape.
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.