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 Finland and from Accra.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet 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 10cc to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam. All the underground hits.
All Major Organ And The Adding Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Isaac Hayes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hot Snakes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Saints,
The United States of America,
The Associates,
Erykah Badu,
Marmalade,
The Neon Judgement,
Rapeman,
Monolake,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Terry Callier,
Frankie Knuckles,
Bill Wells,
Can,
Man Parrish,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Sister Nancy,
Nick Fraelich,
Amon Düül II,
The Smoke,
Make Up,
The Cramps,
New York Dolls,
Moss Icon,
the Slits,
Joe Smooth,
The Alarm Clocks,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gang of Four,
Adolescents,
Franke,
The Buckinghams,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Royal Trux,
Barrington Levy,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Malaria!,
Reuben Wilson,
Henry Cow,
Hashim,
John Cale,
Eric Dolphy,
Man Eating Sloth,
Graham Central Station,
The Trojans,
Desert Stars,
Brass Construction,
Sarah Menescal,
John Holt,
B.T. Express,
Swell Maps,
Country Teasers,
Joy Division,
H. Thieme,
Black Bananas,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Offenders,
48th St. Collective,
Prince Buster,
T.S.O.L.,
The Martian,
Scion,
Fugazi,
Basic Channel, Basic Channel, Basic Channel, Basic Channel.
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.