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 Swaziland and from Mumbai.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 John Coltrane to the techno 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 Television Personalities. All the underground hits.
All Crispy Ambulance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Todd Rundgren record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Red Krayola record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bootsy Collins,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Fela Kuti,
Lalann,
Alphaville,
Lindisfarne,
Rosa Yemen,
Half Japanese,
Maurizio,
Deepchord,
Aural Exciters,
The Martian,
Shuggie Otis,
Audionom,
The Seeds,
June Days,
Radiopuhelimet,
James White and The Blacks,
Ultra Naté,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
the Human League,
Outsiders,
Yellowson,
Blancmange,
Brand Nubian,
Japan,
Fear,
Kas Product,
Lucky Dragons,
Theoretical Girls,
Hoover,
The Busters,
The Star Department,
Maleditus Sound,
Bauhaus,
The Selecter,
Traffic Nightmare,
Duran Duran,
Franke,
Susan Cadogan,
The Fortunes,
The Red Krayola,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
John Lydon,
Blake Baxter,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Cymande,
Bobby Sherman,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Kayak,
Heaven 17,
Danielle Patucci,
Subhumans,
Massinfluence,
the Sonics,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sister Nancy, Sister Nancy, Sister Nancy, Sister Nancy.
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.