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 Belgium and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 Woodstock and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 The Stooges to the jazz 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 Bob Dylan. All the underground hits.
All kango's stein massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minutemen 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brothers Johnson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Peter and Kerry,
Sight & Sound,
Throbbing Gristle,
the Bar-Kays,
Harry Pussy,
Barrington Levy,
Moebius,
Kayak,
Amazonics,
Ponytail,
the Slits,
Audionom,
The Real Kids,
Sun Ra,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Eddi Front,
The Cure,
Visage,
Deepchord,
Bobby Byrd,
The Electric Prunes,
The Wake,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Gong,
Donald Byrd,
New York Dolls,
Ten City,
Public Enemy,
Urselle,
Terrestrial Tones,
Marmalade,
Fear,
Tom Boy,
Ludus,
Fluxion,
Tomorrow,
Outsiders,
Cybotron,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Anthony Braxton,
Soft Machine,
Black Moon,
The Alarm Clocks,
Avey Tare,
The Barracudas,
MC5,
Marshall Jefferson,
Arab on Radar,
Livin' Joy,
The Trojans,
Camberwell Now,
Crash Course in Science,
Magma,
New Order,
The Star Department,
Mary Jane Girls,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Jeru the Damaja,
Steve Hackett,
Stiv Bators,
Zero Boys,
Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar.
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.