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 Ireland and from Cairo.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 cv313 to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Pulsallama. All the underground hits.
All Blossom Toes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alphaville 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 a linndrum and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Letta Mbulu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Music Machine,
Soft Cell,
Goldenarms,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Drive Like Jehu,
Altered Images,
Tommy Roe,
Josef K,
Yaz,
Jandek,
Black Pus,
Buzzcocks,
Kerrie Biddell,
Agent Orange,
the Human League,
The Gun Club,
Sexual Harrassment,
Steve Hackett,
Marshall Jefferson,
B.T. Express,
Gichy Dan,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Rakim,
The Star Department,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Symarip,
Accadde A,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Interpol,
Ralphi Rosario,
Amazonics,
Jeff Mills,
F. McDonald,
Crime,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Smiths,
Graham Central Station,
Joensuu 1685,
The Moleskins,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Swans,
the Bar-Kays,
Jimmy McGriff,
Deadbeat,
Ronnie Foster,
Electric Prunes,
Faraquet,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Fortunes,
Stiv Bators,
Thee Headcoats,
The Raincoats,
Joy Division,
Scan 7,
Adolescents,
Infiniti,
David Axelrod,
Television Personalities,
The Wake,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The American Breed,
Deepchord, Deepchord, Deepchord, Deepchord.
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.