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 Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 linndrum 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 Gang of Four to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 MDC. All the underground hits.
All Bang on a Can All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brothers Johnson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 snare and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Velvet Underground record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Sherman,
Lungfish,
The Smoke,
The Seeds,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Juan Atkins,
Tres Demented,
Derrick May,
Malaria!,
Minor Threat,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Franke,
Aloha Tigers,
Quadrant,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Sarah Menescal,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
the Slits,
The United States of America,
Arthur Verocai,
Second Layer,
Yazoo,
Monolake,
Thee Headcoats,
Desert Stars,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Davy DMX,
Yusef Lateef,
Accadde A,
The Dead C,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Cymande,
Silicon Teens,
Maurizio,
This Heat,
B.T. Express,
Pylon,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Funkadelic,
Brothers Johnson,
Girls At Our Best!,
Ultravox,
The Smiths,
The Busters,
A Certain Ratio,
Bob Dylan,
Organ,
The Offenders,
Sister Nancy,
Jeff Lynne,
Boredoms,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Lucky Dragons,
Mars,
the Bar-Kays,
Black Pus,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Searchers,
Crime, Crime, Crime, Crime.
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.