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 Uruguay and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Standells to the rap 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 Soft Cell. All the underground hits.
All N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wings record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brass Construction record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fifty Foot Hose,
Maleditus Sound,
Hasil Adkins,
Byron Stingily,
Jeff Lynne,
FM Einheit,
Bobby Byrd,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Wings,
The Knickerbockers,
X-102,
Cal Tjader,
Freddie Wadling,
Bootsy Collins,
The United States of America,
Rites of Spring,
Crispian St. Peters,
Eurythmics,
Robert Görl,
Marvin Gaye,
Stetsasonic,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Al Stewart,
Ossler,
Carl Craig,
Dennis Brown,
The Walker Brothers,
Black Flag,
The Cure,
The Gories,
Cybotron,
Parry Music,
Mr. Review,
The Busters,
Ronnie Foster,
The Martian,
The Sound,
The Invisible,
Qualms,
The Dirtbombs,
The Divine Comedy,
Minor Threat,
The Associates,
The Evens,
Boz Scaggs,
Black Moon,
New Order,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Andrew Hill,
Pulsallama,
Mandrill,
Avey Tare,
Matthew Bourne,
Arab on Radar,
Lightning Bolt,
Chris Corsano,
Make Up,
The American Breed,
Motorama,
Yellowson,
Bizarre Inc.,
Scott Walker, Scott Walker, Scott Walker, Scott Walker.
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.