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 Guyana and from Edmonton.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Litter to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Stockholm Monsters. All the underground hits.
All The Velvet Underground tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott Heron 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 '90s.
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 John Holt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Albert Ayler,
The Red Krayola,
Yazoo,
Chrome,
The Human League,
Monks,
The Beau Brummels,
Alice Coltrane,
The Golliwogs,
Yellowson,
8 Eyed Spy,
Joey Negro,
Idris Muhammad,
Hashim,
The Associates,
Bill Near,
Ituana,
Lightning Bolt,
June of 44,
Public Image Ltd.,
Bobby Sherman,
Camouflage,
Liliput,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Black Sheep,
Fatback Band,
The Move,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Music Machine,
The Happenings,
Soft Cell,
Absolute Body Control,
Animal Collective,
Silicon Teens,
Marmalade,
JFA,
Jacques Brel,
The Velvet Underground,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Fall,
Isaac Hayes,
Wasted Youth,
The Vogues,
Ultra Naté,
Siglo XX,
Harry Pussy,
This Heat,
Echospace,
Swans,
Guru Guru,
Terry Callier,
Traffic Nightmare,
Excepter,
Max Romeo,
Loose Ends,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Q and Not U,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
John Coltrane,
Joyce Sims,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
David McCallum, David McCallum, David McCallum, David McCallum.
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.