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 Libya and from Glasgow.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 Brothers Johnson to the electroclash 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 John Holt. All the underground hits.
All DJ Sneak tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New York Dolls 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Johnny Osbourne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tears for Fears,
Severed Heads,
Simply Red,
Mr. Review,
Lyres,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Subhumans,
Dave Gahan,
The Smoke,
Rekid,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Move,
Angry Samoans,
Public Image Ltd.,
Eric B and Rakim,
Robert Görl,
Harmonia,
Soul II Soul,
The Residents,
Funky Four + One,
Aural Exciters,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Rites of Spring,
Niagra,
Iggy Pop,
This Heat,
Amazonics,
B.T. Express,
Scratch Acid,
Arcadia,
Maurizio,
Lightning Bolt,
Judy Mowatt,
Crispian St. Peters,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Pere Ubu,
Sun City Girls,
Aaron Thompson,
Jeff Mills,
Flash Fearless,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Buzzcocks,
Girls At Our Best!,
Kayak,
Kool Moe Dee,
Leonard Cohen,
Joyce Sims,
T.S.O.L.,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Khruangbin,
Lalo Schifrin,
Donny Hathaway,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Mojo Men,
Prince Buster,
Eve St. Jones,
The Gun Club,
The Associates,
The Smiths,
Liliput,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Blossom Toes,
Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke.
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.