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 Rwanda and from Milan.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Bologna.
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 organ 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 Strawberry Alarm Clock to the funk 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 T. Rex. All the underground hits.
All Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Don Cherry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mo-Dettes,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Cal Tjader,
June of 44,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Gastr Del Sol,
CMW,
Robert Wyatt,
Crispian St. Peters,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Aswad,
These Immortal Souls,
Eden Ahbez,
The Motions,
EPMD,
Interpol,
Adolescents,
Rod Modell,
The Misunderstood,
David McCallum,
The Last Poets,
Half Japanese,
Intrusion,
Black Flag,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Tubeway Army,
Brand Nubian,
Lightning Bolt,
Motorama,
The Gun Club,
Max Romeo,
Newcleus,
Scientists,
Spoonie Gee,
The Neon Judgement,
Infiniti,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Babytalk,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Can,
Kerri Chandler,
Khruangbin,
Yaz,
Goldenarms,
The Dead C,
This Heat,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Anakelly,
Roxette,
Moss Icon,
the Germs,
Supertramp,
The Smiths,
Glenn Branca,
Parry Music,
The Monks,
Fad Gadget,
Soul II Soul,
Harpers Bizarre,
Barclay James Harvest,
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.