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 Montenegro and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 harpsichord 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 Kayak to the disco 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 Reagan Youth. All the underground hits.
All The Royal Family And The Poor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blancmange record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Vaughan Mason & Crew record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The J.B.'s,
The Velvet Underground,
Harry Pussy,
The Count Five,
Aural Exciters,
Kayak,
Magazine,
Fear,
Erasure,
Joe Finger,
Deadbeat,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
the Slits,
T.S.O.L.,
Sound Behaviour,
Rites of Spring,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The American Breed,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Searchers,
Stereo Dub,
The Offenders,
Arthur Verocai,
Black Pus,
Donny Hathaway,
Jeff Lynne,
Symarip,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Organ,
Rod Modell,
Frankie Knuckles,
Suburban Knight,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Mars,
Minutemen,
Skriet,
Arab on Radar,
Dual Sessions,
Lou Christie,
Yellowson,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Dead Boys,
The Leaves,
Marshall Jefferson,
Boredoms,
Josef K,
The Beau Brummels,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Cybotron,
Sarah Menescal,
Easy Going,
The Pop Group,
Main Source,
Parry Music,
Traffic Nightmare,
Mr. Review,
The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans.
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.