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 Dominican Republic and from Manila.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Roy Ayers to the crunk 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 Heavy D & The Boyz. All the underground hits.
All Bluetip tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Standells record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Max Romeo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Boz Scaggs,
Rapeman,
Minnie Riperton,
Organ,
Motorama,
Dawn Penn,
Davy DMX,
Brick,
Letta Mbulu,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Andrew Hill,
Donny Hathaway,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Sugar Minott,
Stockholm Monsters,
DJ Style,
Fugazi,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
T. Rex,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Deadbeat,
Pulsallama,
Radio Birdman,
Sam Rivers,
Swans,
Japan,
Deepchord,
Lungfish,
Banda Bassotti,
Nirvana,
The Fugs,
Accadde A,
Rosa Yemen,
The Dirtbombs,
Danielle Patucci,
Jacques Brel,
John Foxx,
H. Thieme,
Massinfluence,
Aaron Thompson,
Wasted Youth,
Quadrant,
The Young Rascals,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Altered Images,
ABC,
The Angels of Light,
Boredoms,
Cybotron,
Monolake,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Pole,
Kurtis Blow,
Liliput,
The Fall,
The Wake,
Yaz,
the Germs,
Kayak,
the Human League, the Human League, the Human League, the Human League.
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.