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 India and from Lagos.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Fort Wilson Riot to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Kaleidoscope. All the underground hits.
All Roy Ayers Ubiquity tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gladiators 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
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 World's Most record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro 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 Remains,
Boz Scaggs,
Altered Images,
Tomorrow,
Kerri Chandler,
Shoche,
Lightning Bolt,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Camberwell Now,
Derrick Morgan,
Monks,
X-Ray Spex,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Loose Ends,
Byron Stingily,
Mad Mike,
Rakim,
Laurel Aitken,
Bill Near,
Roxy Music,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Frankie Knuckles,
Bluetip,
The Grass Roots,
Gang Starr,
Sixth Finger,
James White and The Blacks,
The Vogues,
UT,
Unrelated Segments,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Flesh Eaters,
Mission of Burma,
Ultravox,
Harmonia,
Isaac Hayes,
Eric Dolphy,
Pere Ubu,
Archie Shepp,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Scott Walker,
The Moody Blues,
Visage,
The Fuzztones,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Joe Smooth,
Anakelly,
Graham Central Station,
Excepter,
Lou Reed,
Arab on Radar,
Jawbox,
Charles Mingus,
Siglo XX,
The Gories,
New York Dolls,
Quando Quango,
Make Up,
Underground Resistance,
Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy.
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.