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 Djibouti and from Tehran.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 John Holt to the dance 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 Fat Boys. All the underground hits.
All Schoolly D tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every T.S.O.L. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The American Breed,
The Divine Comedy,
Danielle Patucci,
The Beau Brummels,
Spoonie Gee,
Young Marble Giants,
Anthony Braxton,
Pulsallama,
D'Angelo,
Black Sheep,
Tom Boy,
Angry Samoans,
Lalann,
Buzzcocks,
Man Parrish,
The Cowsills,
Spandau Ballet,
Eli Mardock,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Q and Not U,
Ultravox,
Pussy Galore,
Tommy Roe,
Clear Light,
New Order,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Marshall Jefferson,
Lower 48,
The Remains,
James White and The Blacks,
The Walker Brothers,
The Neon Judgement,
Sandy B,
The Stooges,
The Raincoats,
Heaven 17,
Brass Construction,
The Seeds,
Rapeman,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
FM Einheit,
Khruangbin,
Infiniti,
Throbbing Gristle,
Sam Rivers,
Wolf Eyes,
Lalo Schifrin,
Arab on Radar,
Scion,
Soft Machine,
The Red Krayola,
Dennis Brown,
This Heat,
Minor Threat,
Traffic Nightmare,
Jandek,
Rites of Spring,
Max Romeo,
Connie Case,
Sällskapet,
kango's stein massive,
Radiohead,
Sonic Youth, Sonic Youth, Sonic Youth, Sonic Youth.
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.