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 Lithuania 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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 Minny Pops to the electroclash 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 Grandmaster Flash. All the underground hits.
All Jeru the Damaja tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Selector Dub Narcotic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Black Dice record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aural Exciters,
Jerry's Kids,
The Detroit Cobras,
Darondo,
Qualms,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Moody Blues,
John Lydon,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Litter,
Dawn Penn,
DJ Style,
Fear,
The Toasters,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Fortunes,
Sarah Menescal,
Steve Hackett,
Patti Smith,
Eddi Front,
Unrelated Segments,
H. Thieme,
Ronnie Foster,
Iggy Pop,
Alphaville,
The Wake,
the Association,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Freddie Wadling,
Grandmaster Flash,
Khruangbin,
Rotary Connection,
Flash Fearless,
Flamin' Groovies,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Trojans,
Sugar Minott,
Hasil Adkins,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Minutemen,
John Cale,
a-ha,
Nico,
X-101,
The Flesh Eaters,
Lalann,
Mars,
Rakim,
Donald Byrd,
Piero Umiliani,
Lou Christie,
The Fall,
This Heat,
U.S. Maple,
Susan Cadogan,
Rites of Spring,
Mr. Review,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Aaron Thompson,
Josef K, Josef K, Josef K, Josef K.
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.