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 Montenegro and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 mellotron 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 Minny Pops to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Royal Family And The Poor. All the underground hits.
All Das Ding tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dawn Penn 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a LL Cool J record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suburban Knight,
Lungfish,
Deepchord,
Lebanon Hanover,
Metal Thangz,
Rapeman,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Sällskapet,
Colin Newman,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Faraquet,
The Alarm Clocks,
Model 500,
Moebius,
U.S. Maple,
Rites of Spring,
Henry Cow,
The Toasters,
Amon Düül II,
CMW,
Lalann,
The Music Machine,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Moody Blues,
Sex Pistols,
Sun Ra,
Man Eating Sloth,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Crash Course in Science,
Quantec,
Lee Hazlewood,
Das Ding,
Electric Prunes,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Joensuu 1685,
Rod Modell,
Eli Mardock,
Whodini,
Desert Stars,
Jandek,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Litter,
Mo-Dettes,
Gang of Four,
The Doobie Brothers,
Wasted Youth,
Slick Rick,
Janne Schatter,
Eric B and Rakim,
Bobby Sherman,
Country Teasers,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Piero Umiliani,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Boz Scaggs,
The Buckinghams,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Sandy B,
Crispian St. Peters,
Faust,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Technova,
Brass Construction, Brass Construction, Brass Construction, Brass Construction.
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.