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 Tunisia and from Madrid.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the sitar 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 Steve Hackett to the rock 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 Depeche Mode. All the underground hits.
All Janne Schatter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Derrick Morgan 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Erykah Badu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Gang Dance,
Toni Rubio,
EPMD,
Excepter,
The United States of America,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Doors,
Talk Talk,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Main Source,
The Stooges,
Severed Heads,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Nik Kershaw,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Cameo,
Erasure,
Aaron Thompson,
Kevin Saunderson,
Sixth Finger,
Slick Rick,
Black Moon,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Supertramp,
Lucky Dragons,
The Saints,
Leonard Cohen,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Icehouse,
Alison Limerick,
Joey Negro,
Avey Tare,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Essential Logic,
The Tremeloes,
Popol Vuh,
the Sonics,
David McCallum,
Scientists,
The Mummies,
The Monks,
Ronnie Foster,
Stockholm Monsters,
Bluetip,
Black Pus,
The Last Poets,
Cluster,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Brick,
Easy Going,
Interpol,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
OOIOO,
Laurel Aitken,
D'Angelo,
June of 44,
The Gun Club,
Radiopuhelimet, Radiopuhelimet, Radiopuhelimet, Radiopuhelimet.
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.