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 New Zealand and from Lagos.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Blackbyrds to the disco 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 James Chance & The Contortions. All the underground hits.
All Jerry's Kids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bad Manners record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Michelle Simonal record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Radio Birdman,
Nirvana,
Cameo,
The Monks,
Kevin Saunderson,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Last Poets,
MC5,
Saccharine Trust,
Oneida,
Agent Orange,
Jerry's Kids,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Metal Thangz,
Dawn Penn,
Man Eating Sloth,
Joyce Sims,
The Slackers,
the Soft Cell,
8 Eyed Spy,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Anthony Braxton,
The Victims,
Minny Pops,
Eric Copeland,
Hardrive,
Whodini,
Lindisfarne,
Morten Harket,
Don Cherry,
Ponytail,
Roger Hodgson,
Isaac Hayes,
Harpers Bizarre,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Beau Brummels,
The Real Kids,
Nik Kershaw,
The Red Krayola,
Soul II Soul,
Cluster,
The Fortunes,
The Gun Club,
The Neon Judgement,
Harmonia,
Intrusion,
Dave Gahan,
Dead Boys,
Technova,
Eli Mardock,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Heaven 17,
Boz Scaggs,
Pole,
Organ,
Ohio Players,
Junior Murvin,
Skarface,
Roxette, Roxette, Roxette, Roxette.
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.