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 Morocco and from London.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Parry Music to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Blackbyrds. All the underground hits.
All Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Whodini record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Searchers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pulsallama,
Agitation Free,
The Fall,
Con Funk Shun,
Max Romeo,
The Slackers,
Sonny Sharrock,
Cluster,
Sex Pistols,
Roxy Music,
The Raincoats,
The Pretty Things,
The Star Department,
Reuben Wilson,
PIL,
T. Rex,
Howard Jones,
Pet Shop Boys,
Gang Gang Dance,
Joey Negro,
Graham Central Station,
Juan Atkins,
The Names,
The Human League,
Davy DMX,
Tears for Fears,
Stetsasonic,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Dirtbombs,
Kenny Larkin,
Rakim,
Shoche,
The Modern Lovers,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Bobby Sherman,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Jawbox,
Brothers Johnson,
Moss Icon,
Wings,
The Toasters,
Supertramp,
Jacques Brel,
The Detroit Cobras,
Susan Cadogan,
The Golliwogs,
48th St. Collective,
Public Image Ltd.,
Morten Harket,
Joy Division,
Barclay James Harvest,
Los Fastidios,
K-Klass,
Jandek,
Goldenarms,
The Searchers,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Franke,
The Electric Prunes,
Blancmange,
Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw.
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.