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 Turkmenistan and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 oboe 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 Sisters of Mercy to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 ABC. All the underground hits.
All Schoolly D tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Can record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Real Kids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar 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 Smoke,
Mary Jane Girls,
Moby Grape,
Peter & Gordon,
Fugazi,
The Standells,
Amon Düül,
Fela Kuti,
Pantaleimon,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Bill Near,
the Bar-Kays,
In Retrospect,
T.S.O.L.,
Chris Corsano,
The Blackbyrds,
Deepchord,
Lebanon Hanover,
John Cale,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Spandau Ballet,
Liliput,
Basic Channel,
The J.B.'s,
Henry Cow,
This Heat,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Red Krayola,
Das Ding,
Bronski Beat,
Jandek,
Erasure,
Graham Central Station,
Interpol,
The Black Dice,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Von Mondo,
Minor Threat,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Victims,
Y Pants,
Johnny Osbourne,
Bobby Byrd,
The Mummies,
Skriet,
Mars,
Yusef Lateef,
Drexciya,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Peter and Kerry,
Harmonia,
Shoche,
Whodini,
The Leaves,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Can,
The Residents, The Residents, The Residents, The Residents.
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.