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 El Salvador and from Manila.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Boogie Down Productions to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 The Cowsills. All the underground hits.
All Television tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scrapy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lafayette Afro Rock Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Residents,
Trumans Water,
Harmonia,
Surgeon,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Lou Christie,
Godley & Creme,
Rosa Yemen,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Beau Brummels,
Outsiders,
Al Stewart,
The Golliwogs,
The Grass Roots,
Eve St. Jones,
Pole,
The Wake,
Tim Buckley,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Monochrome Set,
Boz Scaggs,
Colin Newman,
David Axelrod,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Walker Brothers,
The Offenders,
DNA,
The Selecter,
The Neon Judgement,
Kas Product,
Reagan Youth,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Sonics,
Amon Düül II,
The Moleskins,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Radiohead,
Kurtis Blow,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Robert Görl,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Shadows of Knight,
Yaz,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Yellowson,
World's Most,
Peter & Gordon,
Oblivians,
Mr. Review,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Five Americans,
Deakin,
Underground Resistance,
Massinfluence,
Fugazi,
Grandmaster Flash,
Bizarre Inc.,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Sugar Minott,
Toni Rubio,
Animal Collective, Animal Collective, Animal Collective, Animal Collective.
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.