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 Belarus and from Glasgow.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ 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 The Gories to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Alice Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Inner City 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 an organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Y Pants,
The Misunderstood,
Anthony Braxton,
Jawbox,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Names,
Pagans,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Electric Prunes,
Scrapy,
Grandmaster Flash,
Banda Bassotti,
Clear Light,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Wally Richardson,
Popol Vuh,
Faraquet,
Graham Central Station,
Public Enemy,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Raincoats,
Main Source,
Ohio Players,
Matthew Halsall,
Desert Stars,
Hasil Adkins,
The Smiths,
Shoche,
Lebanon Hanover,
Gabor Szabo,
Sandy B,
Matthew Bourne,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Happenings,
Smog,
Max Romeo,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Black Pus,
Harmonia,
Motorama,
Bad Manners,
Peter & Gordon,
Swans,
The Moody Blues,
Tim Buckley,
Marine Girls,
The Vogues,
Buzzcocks,
Alison Limerick,
cv313,
Jandek,
Tubeway Army,
Parry Music,
Theoretical Girls,
Fort Wilson Riot,
KRS-One,
Barbara Tucker,
Donny Hathaway,
The Fuzztones,
Glambeats Corp.,
Jimmy McGriff,
Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps.
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.