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 Micronesia and from Winnipeg.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 oboe 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 Kings Of Tomorrow to the jazz 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 Babytalk. All the underground hits.
All Joe Smooth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Vogues record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Lydon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minor Threat,
Shoche,
Urselle,
Infiniti,
MC5,
Theoretical Girls,
The Litter,
Pagans,
Joey Negro,
The Happenings,
Junior Murvin,
Absolute Body Control,
Crispy Ambulance,
Public Enemy,
Swell Maps,
Icehouse,
Fugazi,
UT,
Piero Umiliani,
The New Christs,
Laurel Aitken,
Andrew Hill,
Lou Reed,
Gong,
Suicide,
Duran Duran,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Can,
The Moleskins,
A Certain Ratio,
Rakim,
Johnny Clarke,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Panda Bear,
Cybotron,
X-101,
Joe Finger,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Brand Nubian,
The Cowsills,
Donny Hathaway,
The Seeds,
The Smiths,
Derrick May,
Minny Pops,
The Kinks,
Cymande,
48th St. Collective,
Masters at Work,
Ultra Naté,
Alphaville,
The Misunderstood,
Organ,
The Trojans,
Sugar Minott,
The Smoke,
The Moody Blues,
Oneida,
The Cramps,
Ponytail,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Drexciya,
Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson.
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.