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 East Timor and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and London.
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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the theremin 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 Mr. Review to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Music Machine. All the underground hits.
All Pussy Galore tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bush Tetras record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Swell Maps record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare 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 Cowsills,
Subhumans,
Terrestrial Tones,
Au Pairs,
Nils Olav,
Talk Talk,
Radiopuhelimet,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Sun City Girls,
The Mojo Men,
Scratch Acid,
Amazonics,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Mars,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Vladislav Delay,
The Offenders,
Eurythmics,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Doobie Brothers,
R.M.O.,
Eric Dolphy,
Matthew Bourne,
Freddie Wadling,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Bad Manners,
The United States of America,
Robert Görl,
Carl Craig,
Sexual Harrassment,
X-102,
Howard Jones,
Adolescents,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Fluxion,
Big Daddy Kane,
Erykah Badu,
Funkadelic,
Jeru the Damaja,
DNA,
Nas,
Supertramp,
Danielle Patucci,
the Human League,
Rakim,
Cybotron,
The Five Americans,
The Gun Club,
Nik Kershaw,
The Buckinghams,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Joyce Sims,
The Victims,
Skriet,
Radio Birdman,
Grey Daturas,
Ohio Players,
Gang Gang Dance,
Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish.
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.