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 Samoa and from Johannesburg.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Crispian St. Peters to the disco 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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish. All the underground hits.
All Circle Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Skatalites record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ajijia Myrayebe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABC,
Donny Hathaway,
Scan 7,
Fatback Band,
Rites of Spring,
Tommy Roe,
Darondo,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Arab on Radar,
Main Source,
F. McDonald,
Bob Dylan,
Masters at Work,
Monks,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Warsaw,
David Axelrod,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Divine Comedy,
Technova,
The Vogues,
Davy DMX,
Absolute Body Control,
Stiv Bators,
the Human League,
Eddi Front,
Cybotron,
Excepter,
China Crisis,
Pylon,
The Cowsills,
Sister Nancy,
Royal Trux,
Gregory Isaacs,
Underground Resistance,
It's A Beautiful Day,
June Days,
Nils Olav,
Interpol,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
DNA,
The Standells,
Siglo XX,
Black Sheep,
The Young Rascals,
Depeche Mode,
Monolake,
Ten City,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Saccharine Trust,
Pagans,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Stetsasonic,
Echospace,
U.S. Maple,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Soulsonic Force,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Marmalade,
Al Stewart,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Moleskins,
The Blackbyrds, The Blackbyrds, The Blackbyrds, The Blackbyrds.
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.