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 Australia and from Woodstock.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Loose Ends to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Drexciya. All the underground hits.
All The Smoke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Icehouse 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rekid,
the Soft Cell,
Fear,
Sparks,
Matthew Halsall,
Pole,
The Fall,
Negative Approach,
Mission of Burma,
Crooked Eye,
Ultimate Spinach,
Jawbox,
Fat Boys,
Skarface,
FM Einheit,
Little Man,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Stockholm Monsters,
Pharoah Sanders,
Hardrive,
Darondo,
Carl Craig,
Ultravox,
cv313,
Excepter,
Freddie Wadling,
Nirvana,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Minor Threat,
Underground Resistance,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Arcadia,
Kas Product,
ABC,
Dark Day,
Lebanon Hanover,
Sex Pistols,
Sällskapet,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Slick Rick,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Schoolly D,
Monks,
Subhumans,
New Age Steppers,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Slits,
Boredoms,
Maurizio,
Jeru the Damaja,
Clear Light,
Duran Duran,
Reuben Wilson,
Eddi Front,
Idris Muhammad,
The Gories,
The Remains,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
This Heat,
Max Romeo,
Inner City,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Lou Christie, Lou Christie, Lou Christie, Lou Christie.
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.