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 Senegal 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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the güiro 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 The Blackbyrds to the rap 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 Cabaret Voltaire. All the underground hits.
All Pet Shop Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-101 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Severed Heads record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABC,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Absolute Body Control,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Slick Rick,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bluetip,
Radiopuhelimet,
Joy Division,
John Cale,
Fluxion,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Bronski Beat,
Kerrie Biddell,
Bobby Sherman,
Leonard Cohen,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Terry Callier,
Jacques Brel,
Stereo Dub,
Rekid,
Erykah Badu,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Zero Boys,
Tropical Tobacco,
James Chance & The Contortions,
One Last Wish,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Suicide,
The Techniques,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Cowsills,
Ornette Coleman,
Porter Ricks,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Donald Byrd,
Idris Muhammad,
Half Japanese,
The Moleskins,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Radio Birdman,
Sam Rivers,
Pulsallama,
Wire,
Toni Rubio,
The Divine Comedy,
Reagan Youth,
Con Funk Shun,
Thee Headcoats,
The Busters,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
New Age Steppers,
The New Christs,
Second Layer,
Desert Stars,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Kevin Saunderson,
Gichy Dan,
Marvin Gaye,
Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca.
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.