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 East Timor and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 marimba 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 Eurythmics to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Birthday Party. All the underground hits.
All the Association tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hoover record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cure 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?
Bill Near,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Cymande,
The Zeros,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Thee Headcoats,
Country Teasers,
Anakelly,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Sound Behaviour,
Talk Talk,
Mr. Review,
Wolf Eyes,
Kevin Saunderson,
Nas,
The Motions,
Hasil Adkins,
Lalann,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Ice-T,
Erykah Badu,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Loose Ends,
Scratch Acid,
Pussy Galore,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Josef K,
Robert Wyatt,
Khruangbin,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
a-ha,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Popol Vuh,
The Toasters,
Radiohead,
ABBA,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Black Dice,
Dark Day,
Slave,
Jesper Dahlback,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Accadde A,
Wally Richardson,
The Electric Prunes,
Soulsonic Force,
Vladislav Delay,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Gichy Dan,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Brothers Johnson,
Sonny Sharrock,
Wings,
Radiopuhelimet,
Angry Samoans,
The Cramps,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
June Days, June Days, June Days, June Days.
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.