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 Bangladesh and from Philadelphia.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Nation of Ulysses to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Altered Images. All the underground hits.
All Scientists tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yazoo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nirvana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bad Manners,
T. Rex,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Hashim,
The Golliwogs,
Soft Machine,
T.S.O.L.,
Inner City,
Michelle Simonal,
Blake Baxter,
Mo-Dettes,
David McCallum,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Judy Mowatt,
Cymande,
Monks,
Supertramp,
Boredoms,
Kerrie Biddell,
Harmonia,
AZ,
Essential Logic,
Oblivians,
Minny Pops,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Gang Starr,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Audionom,
Ronan,
Japan,
kango's stein massive,
Bob Dylan,
Reagan Youth,
Trumans Water,
Camouflage,
This Heat,
Rhythm & Sound,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Crispy Ambulance,
Roxette,
Motorama,
The Remains,
Aaron Thompson,
Mission of Burma,
Tears for Fears,
Theoretical Girls,
Todd Rundgren,
Depeche Mode,
Johnny Clarke,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Simply Red,
Eden Ahbez,
Heaven 17,
The Busters,
Crime,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Walker Brothers,
Warsaw,
Marvin Gaye,
Dead Boys, Dead Boys, Dead Boys, Dead 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.