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 Hungary and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
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 The Moody Blues to the rock 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 Harry Pussy. All the underground hits.
All John Cale tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Man Parrish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New Age Steppers,
Banda Bassotti,
The J.B.'s,
Unwound,
Babytalk,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Kerri Chandler,
Rosa Yemen,
Skriet,
The American Breed,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
June of 44,
The Zeros,
Joey Negro,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Flesh Eaters,
Sonny Sharrock,
Ludus,
Joe Smooth,
Eric B and Rakim,
Y Pants,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Index,
Youth Brigade,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Ornette Coleman,
June Days,
Sam Rivers,
Gichy Dan,
New York Dolls,
The Divine Comedy,
Tubeway Army,
Marvin Gaye,
Wasted Youth,
Dennis Brown,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Electric Light Orchestra,
John Lydon,
Sex Pistols,
the Slits,
Idris Muhammad,
Dead Boys,
Porter Ricks,
Davy DMX,
Aaron Thompson,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Happenings,
Eddi Front,
Minor Threat,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Funky Four + One,
E-Dancer,
Average White Band,
Easy Going,
Chris & Cosey,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Jandek,
Monks,
Flash Fearless, Flash Fearless, Flash Fearless, Flash Fearless.
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.