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 Norway and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 808 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 Big Daddy Kane to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog. All the underground hits.
All The Music Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Don Cherry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Modern Lovers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Residents,
The Stooges,
New Age Steppers,
The Gories,
Mission of Burma,
Cymande,
Max Romeo,
Erasure,
Kas Product,
Lindisfarne,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Pulsallama,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Susan Cadogan,
Kayak,
Al Stewart,
Kerrie Biddell,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Cramps,
Bizarre Inc.,
John Coltrane,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Ten City,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Man Parrish,
Lungfish,
Amon Düül,
Shoche,
a-ha,
Hardrive,
The Trojans,
Mary Jane Girls,
Spandau Ballet,
The Electric Prunes,
The American Breed,
Scion,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Q and Not U,
Icehouse,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Moby Grape,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Country Teasers,
Pere Ubu,
Babytalk,
Kaleidoscope,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Yusef Lateef,
Can,
Jandek,
Tubeway Army,
The Count Five,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Prince Buster,
The Divine Comedy,
The Fortunes,
Rosa Yemen,
Bad Manners,
Bronski Beat,
Khruangbin,
Crime, Crime, Crime, Crime.
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.