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 South Sudan and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 synthesizer 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 Bootsy Collins to the grunge 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 The Fugs. All the underground hits.
All Tim Buckley tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vladislav Delay 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Blues Magoos record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Agent Orange,
Mantronix,
Erykah Badu,
T.S.O.L.,
Jawbox,
Archie Shepp,
The Stooges,
Reagan Youth,
Lyres,
Marcia Griffiths,
Niagra,
The Cowsills,
Chrome,
DNA,
E-Dancer,
The Five Americans,
The Standells,
Goldenarms,
Michelle Simonal,
Aswad,
Ronan,
Mo-Dettes,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Ituana,
New Age Steppers,
The Pretty Things,
the Sonics,
Unwound,
Flipper,
Lalann,
Eric B and Rakim,
Marvin Gaye,
Lebanon Hanover,
Sandy B,
Tommy Roe,
Fluxion,
Glambeats Corp.,
Avey Tare,
The Alarm Clocks,
Al Stewart,
Barclay James Harvest,
Crooked Eye,
Idris Muhammad,
Black Sheep,
Ken Boothe,
Connie Case,
Au Pairs,
The Gap Band,
The United States of America,
Slick Rick,
Howard Jones,
Boz Scaggs,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Gang Green,
Accadde A,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Crispy Ambulance,
Brick,
Swell Maps,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Hot Snakes,
Zero Boys, Zero Boys, Zero Boys, Zero Boys.
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.