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 Lebanon and from Manchester.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Nick Fraelich to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Letta Mbulu. All the underground hits.
All Crime tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Leaves record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Axelrod record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron 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 Saints,
Nico,
Sexual Harrassment,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
ABC,
Ronnie Foster,
Crispian St. Peters,
Malaria!,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gerry Rafferty,
Supertramp,
Eric B and Rakim,
Max Romeo,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Gun Club,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Mad Mike,
Procol Harum,
Graham Central Station,
David Bowie,
Cymande,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
DNA,
Infiniti,
The Evens,
Japan,
The Red Krayola,
Banda Bassotti,
Byron Stingily,
Carl Craig,
Don Cherry,
Masters at Work,
Excepter,
Yellowson,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Boredoms,
LL Cool J,
The Tremeloes,
DJ Style,
a-ha,
Grauzone,
Popol Vuh,
Jeff Mills,
the Soft Cell,
The Cramps,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
the Germs,
The Names,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Funky Four + One,
Smog,
Echospace,
The Kinks,
The Trojans,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Detroit Cobras,
Bob Dylan,
Minny Pops, Minny Pops, Minny Pops, Minny Pops.
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.