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 Taiwan and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Saints 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 H. Thieme. All the underground hits.
All Peter & Gordon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harpers Bizarre 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bang On A Can record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jacques Brel,
New Age Steppers,
The Dave Clark Five,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Nico,
Sister Nancy,
Gil Scott Heron,
Scion,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Warren Ellis,
Rod Modell,
U.S. Maple,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Byron Stingily,
The Monks,
Subhumans,
The Wake,
The Smoke,
Mad Mike,
The Count Five,
KRS-One,
June Days,
Sonny Sharrock,
Deepchord,
Mantronix,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Todd Rundgren,
Skarface,
Eric B and Rakim,
Boz Scaggs,
Tommy Roe,
T.S.O.L.,
Cheater Slicks,
Guru Guru,
Bobby Byrd,
Eve St. Jones,
Donald Byrd,
Laurel Aitken,
Black Pus,
Monolake,
Steve Hackett,
Mark Hollis,
Davy DMX,
Barry Ungar,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Chrome,
Derrick May,
Q65,
Mo-Dettes,
Mr. Review,
The Zeros,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Eden Ahbez,
Skaos,
The Gap Band,
Robert Wyatt,
The Grass Roots,
Buzzcocks,
Black Sheep,
The Gladiators,
Aural Exciters,
Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish.
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.