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 Kazakhstan and from Jakarta.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 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 Moss Icon to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Quadrant. All the underground hits.
All the Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bluetip record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kayak 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?
The Saints,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Dead C,
Aaron Thompson,
Zapp,
The Blues Magoos,
Moebius,
Bauhaus,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Mars,
Agent Orange,
Judy Mowatt,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Barracudas,
Thompson Twins,
The Index,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Joe Finger,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Sonics,
Terry Callier,
Supertramp,
Rites of Spring,
The Dirtbombs,
the Sonics,
David Bowie,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Birthday Party,
Symarip,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Aloha Tigers,
The Standells,
The Slits,
Eden Ahbez,
Eve St. Jones,
Erykah Badu,
Alice Coltrane,
Blossom Toes,
UT,
Jeru the Damaja,
Slick Rick,
Unwound,
Oneida,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Mr. Review,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Golliwogs,
The Human League,
The Gun Club,
The Durutti Column,
Nation of Ulysses,
Rod Modell,
The Modern Lovers,
D'Angelo,
Bang On A Can,
Soft Cell,
The Gories,
Babytalk, Babytalk, Babytalk, Babytalk.
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.