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 Sri Lanka and from Sao Paulo.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 guitar 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 Dorothy Ashby to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Bob Dylan. All the underground hits.
All Johnny Clarke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy's Rubber Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a In Retrospect record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
F. McDonald,
Q and Not U,
Kerri Chandler,
Rakim,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Eric Copeland,
Saccharine Trust,
Delta 5,
The Flesh Eaters,
Dorothy Ashby,
Terrestrial Tones,
Audionom,
Boogie Down Productions,
Main Source,
Steve Hackett,
Mr. Review,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Deadbeat,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
June of 44,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Black Dice,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Gang Gang Dance,
X-101,
Monolake,
Lalo Schifrin,
Gregory Isaacs,
Das Ding,
Fear,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Wings,
Boredoms,
Brick,
The Techniques,
Royal Trux,
Metal Thangz,
Robert Görl,
Eurythmics,
Jeff Mills,
Ken Boothe,
Radiohead,
Unwound,
The Misunderstood,
B.T. Express,
Big Daddy Kane,
Sexual Harrassment,
One Last Wish,
Mo-Dettes,
Heaven 17,
Lyres,
Los Fastidios,
Fad Gadget,
Bill Near,
Reagan Youth,
The Vogues,
Jacob Miller,
Suicide,
the Normal,
Boz Scaggs,
Talk Talk,
Yaz,
The Tremeloes, The Tremeloes, The Tremeloes, The Tremeloes.
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.