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 Costa Rica and from Milan.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Charles Mingus to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Zero Boys. All the underground hits.
All Nik Kershaw tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rufus Thomas,
Black Bananas,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Joey Negro,
Moebius,
Dorothy Ashby,
Television Personalities,
The Trojans,
Archie Shepp,
Animal Collective,
Davy DMX,
Bill Near,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Unrelated Segments,
Girls At Our Best!,
Zero Boys,
The American Breed,
Todd Rundgren,
Hasil Adkins,
Skriet,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Brass Construction,
The Offenders,
Kaleidoscope,
Television,
Magma,
Maurizio,
Marine Girls,
Grauzone,
John Cale,
Alton Ellis,
the Sonics,
Livin' Joy,
The Cramps,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Divine Comedy,
Excepter,
Jerry's Kids,
Roger Hodgson,
U.S. Maple,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
MDC,
Fort Wilson Riot,
the Bar-Kays,
Soul II Soul,
Bush Tetras,
The Birthday Party,
Jeru the Damaja,
the Fania All-Stars,
Crispy Ambulance,
Heaven 17,
Blossom Toes,
Curtis Mayfield,
Country Teasers,
Panda Bear,
Quadrant,
Royal Trux,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Kurtis Blow,
Deepchord,
The Selecter,
Avey Tare,
James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions.
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.