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 Ireland and from Copenhagen.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Mexico City.
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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the sitar 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 Throbbing Gristle to the funk 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 Bob Dylan. All the underground hits.
All Rod Modell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Donny Hathaway record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 a güiro and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Byron Stingily record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cheater Slicks,
The Selecter,
Mars,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Half Japanese,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Residents,
Roxy Music,
Blake Baxter,
Porter Ricks,
John Cale,
Althea and Donna,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Sound,
Urselle,
Slave,
Shoche,
The Dirtbombs,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Fad Gadget,
Sex Pistols,
Bad Manners,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Danielle Patucci,
Ronnie Foster,
Severed Heads,
Lightning Bolt,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
U.S. Maple,
The Moody Blues,
Eddi Front,
In Retrospect,
Lou Reed,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
the Normal,
Frankie Knuckles,
Eli Mardock,
Faraquet,
The Alarm Clocks,
Minny Pops,
Anakelly,
Grey Daturas,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Offenders,
Derrick Morgan,
Heaven 17,
Harry Pussy,
Rapeman,
Bootsy Collins,
Angry Samoans,
The Evens,
Todd Rundgren,
Fluxion,
The Litter,
Pere Ubu,
Matthew Bourne,
The Star Department,
It's A Beautiful Day,
China Crisis,
Black Flag,
Sam Rivers,
Gil Scott Heron,
Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses.
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.