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 Korea North and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry to the jazz 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 The Toasters. All the underground hits.
All Youth Brigade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Smog 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arthur Verocai,
Lightning Bolt,
Intrusion,
Chrome,
Harry Pussy,
Mantronix,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Count Five,
Saccharine Trust,
Dave Gahan,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
D'Angelo,
Peter and Kerry,
Tom Boy,
Lakeside,
Essential Logic,
Aloha Tigers,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Flesh Eaters,
Aaron Thompson,
Donald Byrd,
Sun Ra,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Mummies,
Bobby Sherman,
EPMD,
Cheater Slicks,
Toni Rubio,
Roxy Music,
the Sonics,
Erasure,
The Remains,
Deakin,
H. Thieme,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Radiopuhelimet,
Nation of Ulysses,
Joy Division,
Tres Demented,
Marvin Gaye,
The Last Poets,
Groovy Waters,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Banda Bassotti,
Cecil Taylor,
The Saints,
Judy Mowatt,
Eurythmics,
Television Personalities,
the Human League,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Smiths,
Swans,
Hardrive,
Interpol,
Yazoo,
Technova,
Amazonics,
Crime,
Maurizio,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Quantec, Quantec, Quantec, Quantec.
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.