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 United States and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 theremin 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 Fluxion to the techno 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 Simply Red. All the underground hits.
All Sound Behaviour tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bob Dylan 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gerry Rafferty record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tom Boy,
The Real Kids,
Tears for Fears,
Funky Four + One,
Black Sheep,
Inner City,
Crooked Eye,
Hot Snakes,
Robert Wyatt,
The Human League,
Depeche Mode,
Drexciya,
Loose Ends,
In Retrospect,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Laurel Aitken,
Eurythmics,
The Detroit Cobras,
Goldenarms,
The Pretty Things,
Brick,
The Toasters,
The Smiths,
Kerrie Biddell,
Sight & Sound,
Shoche,
Scion,
Liliput,
cv313,
The Trojans,
Yusef Lateef,
Porter Ricks,
Rod Modell,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Con Funk Shun,
Skriet,
Eric Copeland,
Audionom,
Amon Düül II,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
the Slits,
Q65,
Zapp,
The Standells,
Khruangbin,
Joensuu 1685,
Talk Talk,
Robert Görl,
Bobby Womack,
Wolf Eyes,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Donny Hathaway,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Piero Umiliani,
John Cale,
Theoretical Girls,
The Techniques,
Ohio Players,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Divine Comedy,
Roxy Music,
The Cowsills,
Tubeway Army, Tubeway Army, Tubeway Army, Tubeway Army.
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.