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 Austria and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Bang On A Can to the electroclash 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 Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan. All the underground hits.
All Eli Mardock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David Bowie record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slave record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minutemen,
Hoover,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Mary Jane Girls,
Connie Case,
Aural Exciters,
Lyres,
Stiv Bators,
Eurythmics,
Siglo XX,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
EPMD,
Ronnie Foster,
Roy Ayers,
Delon & Dalcan,
R.M.O.,
Massinfluence,
Letta Mbulu,
Masters at Work,
MC5,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Oneida,
Isaac Hayes,
The Detroit Cobras,
Easy Going,
Youth Brigade,
Cluster,
Blancmange,
Dawn Penn,
Agitation Free,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Trojans,
8 Eyed Spy,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Tomorrow,
Buzzcocks,
Dead Boys,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
the Human League,
The Gun Club,
World's Most,
Kurtis Blow,
Tres Demented,
Essential Logic,
Ponytail,
Accadde A,
Malaria!,
Rapeman,
Archie Shepp,
Slave,
The Doobie Brothers,
Fugazi,
Ten City,
Arab on Radar,
Curtis Mayfield,
Depeche Mode,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Derrick Morgan,
Clear Light,
ABBA,
Don Cherry,
Maurizio,
Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro.
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.