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 Haiti and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 güiro 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 UT to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Thee Headcoats. All the underground hits.
All Graham Central Station tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rufus Thomas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Johnny Clarke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mark Hollis,
Pantaleimon,
Fat Boys,
Thompson Twins,
The Sonics,
The Alarm Clocks,
Interpol,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
John Lydon,
The Fuzztones,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Camouflage,
Porter Ricks,
Amazonics,
Minnie Riperton,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Detroit Cobras,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Scrapy,
Bootsy Collins,
Kayak,
Rod Modell,
The Seeds,
Judy Mowatt,
The Move,
Agent Orange,
Section 25,
Shuggie Otis,
Bizarre Inc.,
Moss Icon,
Archie Shepp,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Toasters,
H. Thieme,
Suburban Knight,
Black Flag,
Peter and Kerry,
Quando Quango,
Nick Fraelich,
The Fall,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Silicon Teens,
Junior Murvin,
Mr. Review,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Mojo Men,
Throbbing Gristle,
Crispy Ambulance,
the Germs,
Ronan,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Symarip,
Sandy B,
Smog,
the Swans,
Siglo XX,
Clear Light,
Pere Ubu,
Steve Hackett,
Aaron Thompson,
The Zeros, The Zeros, The Zeros, The Zeros.
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.