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 Algeria and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 güiro 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 Excepter to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Bang On A Can. All the underground hits.
All The Young Rascals tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ronnie Foster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an oboe and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a R.M.O. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Depeche Mode,
Darondo,
Stereo Dub,
Chrome,
Tropical Tobacco,
Thompson Twins,
Deakin,
World's Most,
Graham Central Station,
The Smoke,
Scientists,
Neu!,
Mission of Burma,
Sarah Menescal,
Excepter,
Boogie Down Productions,
Alphaville,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Mojo Men,
Ponytail,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Schoolly D,
Das Ding,
Maleditus Sound,
Rakim,
Marshall Jefferson,
ABC,
Wire,
Cybotron,
Camberwell Now,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Malaria!,
Camouflage,
Bang On A Can,
Cal Tjader,
Pussy Galore,
Trumans Water,
Brass Construction,
Marine Girls,
Circle Jerks,
Todd Rundgren,
The Last Poets,
Saccharine Trust,
Nas,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Y Pants,
The Blues Magoos,
Unwound,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Eddi Front,
David Axelrod,
Eric Dolphy,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Golliwogs,
KRS-One,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Flesh Eaters,
Gabor Szabo,
Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17.
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.