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 Burkina and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 Michael McDonald 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 American Breed to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 PIL. All the underground hits.
All Gichy Dan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Pretty Things record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a World's Most record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dual Sessions,
Tropical Tobacco,
Lungfish,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Alarm Clocks,
Skarface,
Wolf Eyes,
Junior Murvin,
Graham Central Station,
Erasure,
Fad Gadget,
Sexual Harrassment,
Scan 7,
Pharoah Sanders,
Gong,
Camberwell Now,
Boz Scaggs,
Pulsallama,
Yusef Lateef,
Procol Harum,
Bang On A Can,
Pole,
Ultravox,
Donald Byrd,
Franke,
Unwound,
Amazonics,
Subhumans,
Quadrant,
The Fortunes,
Ultra Naté,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The American Breed,
Minutemen,
Rakim,
Black Moon,
DNA,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Dennis Brown,
Jeru the Damaja,
Banda Bassotti,
Liliput,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Au Pairs,
Underground Resistance,
Reuben Wilson,
Flamin' Groovies,
Gang Starr,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Robert Wyatt,
Bill Wells,
Rotary Connection,
New York Dolls,
Tomorrow,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Ultimate Spinach,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Jesper Dahlback,
Crispian St. Peters,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Durutti Column,
OOIOO,
Pantytec,
Fort Wilson Riot, Fort Wilson Riot, Fort Wilson Riot, Fort Wilson Riot.
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.