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 Slovakia and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 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 Eric B and Rakim to the funk 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 Nirvana. All the underground hits.
All Nico tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angels of Light & Akron/Family record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Litter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Techniques,
Lindisfarne,
The Alarm Clocks,
Moby Grape,
Urselle,
Quando Quango,
The Cramps,
Tears for Fears,
Aswad,
The J.B.'s,
Don Cherry,
Dual Sessions,
R.M.O.,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Drexciya,
The Tremeloes,
The Dead C,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
T. Rex,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Grey Daturas,
Vainqueur,
The Motions,
Delta 5,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Five Americans,
the Slits,
LL Cool J,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Suicide,
David McCallum,
Fat Boys,
Graham Central Station,
The Grass Roots,
Outsiders,
Agent Orange,
Harmonia,
the Soft Cell,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sugar Minott,
The Beau Brummels,
Peter and Kerry,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Fall,
Funkadelic,
Pylon,
Aural Exciters,
Rites of Spring,
Buzzcocks,
The Remains,
Michelle Simonal,
Marc Almond,
Babytalk,
Barrington Levy,
Suburban Knight,
Camouflage,
Siglo XX,
June Days,
Television,
Kayak,
Patti Smith,
Ice-T,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo.
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.