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 Mozambique and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 harpsichord 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 Sad Lovers and Giants to the dance 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 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds. All the underground hits.
All A Flock of Seagulls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Association record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Searchers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
F. McDonald,
Crooked Eye,
The Cure,
The Mojo Men,
Silicon Teens,
Second Layer,
Animal Collective,
This Heat,
Sonic Youth,
Youth Brigade,
Alison Limerick,
Erykah Badu,
Nik Kershaw,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Theoretical Girls,
Panda Bear,
Ken Boothe,
Fatback Band,
Talk Talk,
The Dave Clark Five,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Black Sheep,
Marmalade,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Accadde A,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Happenings,
DJ Style,
Television Personalities,
Basic Channel,
Rapeman,
L. Decosne,
Thompson Twins,
Cheater Slicks,
Royal Trux,
The Fire Engines,
Cecil Taylor,
The Seeds,
a-ha,
Cymande,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Pere Ubu,
The Sonics,
Scratch Acid,
The Move,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Ronnie Foster,
the Germs,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Bluetip,
Make Up,
Hasil Adkins,
Michelle Simonal,
The Pretty Things,
Barclay James Harvest,
Glambeats Corp.,
Steve Hackett,
Gerry Rafferty,
Saccharine Trust,
Au Pairs,
Wings, Wings, Wings, Wings.
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.