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 Venezuela and from Cairo.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Accra.
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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Tim Buckley to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Fania All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All Joyce Sims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Barracudas 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marvin Gaye record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joe Smooth,
The Martian,
Eric Dolphy,
Pierre Henry,
Donny Hathaway,
The Cowsills,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Mr. Review,
Whodini,
Negative Approach,
Tomorrow,
Mad Mike,
Fatback Band,
Lebanon Hanover,
Unwound,
June of 44,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Bill Wells,
James White and The Blacks,
Niagra,
Lightning Bolt,
Brick,
Terry Callier,
Los Fastidios,
Lou Christie,
Idris Muhammad,
Warsaw,
Sun City Girls,
Kaleidoscope,
OOIOO,
Motorama,
The Modern Lovers,
the Normal,
The Detroit Cobras,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Bang On A Can,
Alice Coltrane,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Crime,
Flamin' Groovies,
Blossom Toes,
Fugazi,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Half Japanese,
Oneida,
Pet Shop Boys,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Max Romeo,
Stereo Dub,
Suicide,
Dead Boys,
Cal Tjader,
Bobby Byrd,
In Retrospect,
Sonny Sharrock,
Das Ding,
Newcleus,
Lalann,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Moby Grape, Moby Grape, Moby Grape, Moby Grape.
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.