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 Luxembourg and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Rhythim Is Rhythim to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Saints. All the underground hits.
All Supertramp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Can 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 '80s 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 Bill Wells record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tears for Fears,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Whodini,
Pantaleimon,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Sarah Menescal,
Pierre Henry,
Mad Mike,
B.T. Express,
the Sonics,
Steve Hackett,
The Monochrome Set,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Banda Bassotti,
Gang Green,
Barclay James Harvest,
Pylon,
Con Funk Shun,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Suburban Knight,
The Alarm Clocks,
Suicide,
Gang of Four,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Absolute Body Control,
Chrome,
Camouflage,
Unwound,
The Evens,
The Dead C,
Bronski Beat,
The Cramps,
The Cure,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Leaves,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Heaven 17,
Agitation Free,
Von Mondo,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Move,
The Moleskins,
ABC,
Sex Pistols,
Lou Reed,
Bluetip,
Throbbing Gristle,
Essential Logic,
Infiniti,
Can,
Icehouse,
Alton Ellis,
The Red Krayola,
The Kinks,
Electric Prunes,
Girls At Our Best!,
Groovy Waters,
London Community Gospel Choir,
FM Einheit,
Inner City, Inner City, Inner City, Inner City.
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.