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 East Timor and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Toronto.
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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the theremin 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 Divine Comedy to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Throbbing Gristle. All the underground hits.
All Blossom Toes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Section 25 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doobie Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-101,
Yusef Lateef,
The Fugs,
The Toasters,
The Busters,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Litter,
Niagra,
Aloha Tigers,
June of 44,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Theoretical Girls,
The Saints,
Bang On A Can,
Clear Light,
Althea and Donna,
Panda Bear,
Intrusion,
The Victims,
The Modern Lovers,
Pantytec,
Unwound,
The Moleskins,
Bluetip,
Godley & Creme,
Fear,
the Fania All-Stars,
Terry Callier,
The Moody Blues,
the Slits,
The Fuzztones,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Youth Brigade,
Prince Buster,
The Smoke,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Nick Fraelich,
The Real Kids,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Fela Kuti,
Sixth Finger,
Derrick May,
10cc,
T. Rex,
Sight & Sound,
E-Dancer,
Los Fastidios,
Bobby Byrd,
James White and The Blacks,
Roxette,
Neu!,
Harry Pussy,
Erykah Badu,
Talk Talk,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Fatback Band,
Stiv Bators,
Saccharine Trust,
The Last Poets,
Franke,
Index,
New Age Steppers,
Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo.
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.