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 Iraq and from Winnipeg.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Scratch Acid to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Lungfish. All the underground hits.
All Bill Near tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Drexciya 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moby Grape record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DNA,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Circle Jerks,
The Remains,
Nils Olav,
The Real Kids,
Arthur Verocai,
Absolute Body Control,
The Gories,
The Vogues,
X-102,
Henry Cow,
Marvin Gaye,
Marine Girls,
The J.B.'s,
The Knickerbockers,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Soul II Soul,
Flamin' Groovies,
Cameo,
Chris Corsano,
Bobby Byrd,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Scan 7,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Lyres,
Nas,
Yellowson,
Rotary Connection,
Jeff Lynne,
Piero Umiliani,
Quadrant,
ABBA,
Juan Atkins,
Magazine,
Monolake,
Lucky Dragons,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Agent Orange,
Todd Rundgren,
Dawn Penn,
The Cowsills,
Kerri Chandler,
Bill Wells,
Graham Central Station,
The Move,
Fela Kuti,
The Litter,
Lou Christie,
Eve St. Jones,
Heaven 17,
The Durutti Column,
Black Moon,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Amon Düül,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Black Pus,
Blossom Toes,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
B.T. Express,
Alphaville,
Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys.
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.