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 Slovenia and from Winnipeg.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Remains to the dance 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 Motorama. All the underground hits.
All Eric B and Rakim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Steve Hackett record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rekid,
Fela Kuti,
The Names,
Index,
Absolute Body Control,
Idris Muhammad,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Thompson Twins,
Scion,
Robert Hood,
La Düsseldorf,
Yazoo,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Hoover,
Anthony Braxton,
Kas Product,
Basic Channel,
kango's stein massive,
Joyce Sims,
Black Moon,
The Dead C,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Jimmy McGriff,
H. Thieme,
John Lydon,
Roxette,
Lucky Dragons,
Tears for Fears,
Lou Reed,
Neu!,
Crash Course in Science,
Minor Threat,
The Cramps,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Searchers,
Public Enemy,
The Grass Roots,
Hasil Adkins,
Bill Near,
Slave,
Gong,
Pantytec,
The Martian,
Ludus,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Happenings,
Fear,
Unrelated Segments,
Reagan Youth,
Cheater Slicks,
The Count Five,
Malaria!,
Pole,
Magazine,
Harpers Bizarre,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Ossler,
Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett.
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.