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 Georgia and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 Donald Fagen 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 Marvin Gaye 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 The Knickerbockers. All the underground hits.
All Jacob Miller tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mark Hollis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a June Days record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mojo Men,
Bobby Byrd,
The Martian,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Mr. Review,
The Litter,
CMW,
Soulsonic Force,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Evens,
Slave,
The Monks,
Zapp,
The Smoke,
Ten City,
Prince Buster,
Oblivians,
The Cure,
The Birthday Party,
Jeru the Damaja,
Ken Boothe,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Outsiders,
Sixth Finger,
Patti Smith,
Eddi Front,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Lalann,
Bizarre Inc.,
Ituana,
Angry Samoans,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Black Flag,
Marshall Jefferson,
Magazine,
The Mummies,
The Trojans,
Shoche,
The Red Krayola,
D'Angelo,
The Tremeloes,
PIL,
Kaleidoscope,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Marmalade,
B.T. Express,
Brand Nubian,
Quando Quango,
Subhumans,
Fat Boys,
The Monochrome Set,
Tres Demented,
Spoonie Gee,
Joe Finger,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Saints,
Minny Pops,
Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade.
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.