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 Angola and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Boogie Down Productions to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Oppenheimer Analysis. All the underground hits.
All Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stereo Dub record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Martian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeff Lynne,
Jimmy McGriff,
Stiv Bators,
The Dirtbombs,
The Dead C,
Dawn Penn,
The Modern Lovers,
Blossom Toes,
DJ Style,
Panda Bear,
Archie Shepp,
Mark Hollis,
Dead Boys,
Derrick May,
Soulsonic Force,
Deakin,
Erykah Badu,
The American Breed,
The Names,
Bad Manners,
Flash Fearless,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Talk Talk,
James White and The Blacks,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Donald Byrd,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Mojo Men,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Jeff Mills,
ABC,
Tres Demented,
Skriet,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Fortunes,
The Motions,
The Gap Band,
cv313,
This Heat,
Moby Grape,
Eden Ahbez,
Guru Guru,
The Index,
Swans,
Faust,
Angry Samoans,
Peter & Gordon,
The Raincoats,
Ten City,
Bang On A Can,
The Beau Brummels,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Zeros,
Lakeside,
Marvin Gaye,
Sun City Girls,
The Happenings,
Magazine,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Khruangbin,
Pantytec,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo, Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo, Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo, Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo.
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.