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 Laos and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the güiro 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 Saccharine Trust to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 A Flock of Seagulls. All the underground hits.
All Lungfish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cal Tjader record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crime record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Make Up,
Motorama,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Magazine,
Wire,
The Stooges,
Iggy Pop,
Stiv Bators,
Wally Richardson,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Index,
Don Cherry,
The Associates,
The Barracudas,
Babytalk,
The Cure,
Scott Walker,
The Mummies,
Franke,
The Durutti Column,
Man Eating Sloth,
John Lydon,
Japan,
Kas Product,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Sonny Sharrock,
Glenn Branca,
Tom Boy,
Judy Mowatt,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Wolf Eyes,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Sister Nancy,
David McCallum,
Lindisfarne,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Saints,
Brick,
Donny Hathaway,
Maurizio,
Angry Samoans,
Inner City,
Mo-Dettes,
Anthony Braxton,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Leonard Cohen,
Black Sheep,
New York Dolls,
The Wake,
Marc Almond,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Neil Young,
Hot Snakes,
Ice-T,
Ohio Players,
Harmonia,
Skarface,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose.
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.