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 Djibouti and from Accra.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the snare 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 Stooges to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 The Five Americans. All the underground hits.
All The Sonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 güiro and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Don Cherry,
Yazoo,
Hot Snakes,
Aaron Thompson,
Scrapy,
Ultimate Spinach,
the Association,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Sun City Girls,
Mantronix,
Motorama,
the Soft Cell,
Patti Smith,
Country Teasers,
Radio Birdman,
Hasil Adkins,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Cal Tjader,
The United States of America,
Make Up,
Delon & Dalcan,
B.T. Express,
Aswad,
Fela Kuti,
Ituana,
The Birthday Party,
Lakeside,
the Normal,
Wolf Eyes,
The Happenings,
The Neon Judgement,
The Searchers,
The Divine Comedy,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Evens,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Gladiators,
The Slits,
Siglo XX,
Eric B and Rakim,
Bizarre Inc.,
Royal Trux,
The Standells,
Tropical Tobacco,
Bob Dylan,
Adolescents,
Maleditus Sound,
Franke,
Man Eating Sloth,
Ponytail,
China Crisis,
New York Dolls,
Todd Rundgren,
Jeff Mills,
Sexual Harrassment,
Gichy Dan,
Con Funk Shun,
Donny Hathaway,
Subhumans,
Lou Reed,
These Immortal Souls,
The Black Dice,
Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians.
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.