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 South Sudan and from Lille.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Rod Modell to the grunge 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 Yusef Lateef. All the underground hits.
All The Mummies tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Letta Mbulu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mantronix record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Invisible,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
The Names,
Franke,
Supertramp,
Camouflage,
Tropical Tobacco,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Dawn Penn,
Black Moon,
Outsiders,
Bill Wells,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
F. McDonald,
B.T. Express,
John Holt,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Simply Red,
Lightning Bolt,
Groovy Waters,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Cheater Slicks,
the Association,
Popol Vuh,
Marvin Gaye,
Cal Tjader,
Fela Kuti,
Kaleidoscope,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Joe Finger,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Five Americans,
ABBA,
KRS-One,
The J.B.'s,
The Monochrome Set,
Quadrant,
Q65,
The Birthday Party,
Colin Newman,
The Young Rascals,
Youth Brigade,
The Moody Blues,
Grauzone,
The Motions,
Gang Green,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Blues Magoos,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Moby Grape,
Cameo,
Vainqueur,
Gabor Szabo,
Echospace,
PIL,
Man Eating Sloth,
Bad Manners,
Average White Band,
Gil Scott Heron,
Sound Behaviour, Sound Behaviour, Sound Behaviour, Sound Behaviour.
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.