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 Tuvalu and from Milan.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 DJ Style to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish. All the underground hits.
All Mr. Review tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pere Ubu 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ohio Players record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ash Ra Tempel,
Pole,
Whodini,
Godley & Creme,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Raincoats,
Niagra,
The Mojo Men,
The Fuzztones,
Flamin' Groovies,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Stooges,
Crispian St. Peters,
Brass Construction,
Sun City Girls,
Sällskapet,
Glambeats Corp.,
Technova,
Funkadelic,
Crash Course in Science,
Echospace,
The Associates,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Sandy B,
Pussy Galore,
Johnny Clarke,
Black Flag,
Shuggie Otis,
Swell Maps,
Arab on Radar,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Cal Tjader,
Sight & Sound,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Donald Byrd,
Kerrie Biddell,
Judy Mowatt,
Ornette Coleman,
Joensuu 1685,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Marmalade,
Freddie Wadling,
Main Source,
The Divine Comedy,
Moby Grape,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Negative Approach,
Bluetip,
Swans,
Dawn Penn,
Mantronix,
JFA,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Count Five,
Slave,
Accadde A,
Television,
Derrick Morgan,
Faraquet,
Eurythmics,
Scratch Acid,
Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears.
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.