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 Afghanistan and from Stockholm.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Calgary.
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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Ultravox to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Angels of Light. All the underground hits.
All Camouflage tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Main Source record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 clarinet and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Letta Mbulu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fifty Foot Hose,
10cc,
Swell Maps,
Icehouse,
The Knickerbockers,
Unwound,
Wolf Eyes,
Nico,
Quando Quango,
F. McDonald,
Q and Not U,
Jawbox,
MC5,
The J.B.'s,
Howard Jones,
Terrestrial Tones,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Altered Images,
the Human League,
The Wake,
June of 44,
The Angels of Light,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Pagans,
Agent Orange,
Rod Modell,
Agitation Free,
Ponytail,
The Durutti Column,
Hashim,
Charles Mingus,
The Offenders,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Flamin' Groovies,
Mary Jane Girls,
A Certain Ratio,
B.T. Express,
Echospace,
Yusef Lateef,
Nirvana,
The Remains,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
H. Thieme,
Eric Copeland,
Hasil Adkins,
Kenny Larkin,
Schoolly D,
Crash Course in Science,
Reuben Wilson,
Animal Collective,
T. Rex,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Lyres,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Davy DMX,
Von Mondo,
The Music Machine,
Roger Hodgson,
One Last Wish,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
A Flock of Seagulls,
kango's stein massive,
The Misunderstood,
Bobby Womack,
The Fire Engines, The Fire Engines, The Fire Engines, The Fire Engines.
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.