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 Paraguay and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Scott Walker + Sunn O))) to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Peter and Kerry. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Byrd tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fort Wilson Riot record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 a chamberlin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Donald Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sound,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Gang Starr,
Anthony Braxton,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Bluetip,
Faraquet,
The Velvet Underground,
Iggy Pop,
Lindisfarne,
Amazonics,
10cc,
Black Sheep,
Nils Olav,
T. Rex,
Black Flag,
Severed Heads,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Gladiators,
Section 25,
Pole,
John Holt,
Eden Ahbez,
New York Dolls,
Lakeside,
Model 500,
Ralphi Rosario,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Scan 7,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
John Foxx,
Outsiders,
Simply Red,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Misunderstood,
Parry Music,
Deepchord,
Moby Grape,
U.S. Maple,
The Neon Judgement,
Malaria!,
Pylon,
the Human League,
Barclay James Harvest,
AZ,
Big Daddy Kane,
Dennis Brown,
Kerri Chandler,
The Walker Brothers,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Camberwell Now,
Joy Division,
The Red Krayola,
The Offenders,
The Selecter,
Man Eating Sloth,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Ultravox,
Rakim,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Livin' Joy,
The Slackers,
Soul II Soul, Soul II Soul, Soul II Soul, Soul II Soul.
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.