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 Monaco and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Excepter to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Associates. All the underground hits.
All Ice-T tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roy Ayers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jawbox record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Parrish,
The Monks,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Boogie Down Productions,
the Association,
Boz Scaggs,
Donny Hathaway,
Fela Kuti,
The Seeds,
The Last Poets,
Hardrive,
Joey Negro,
Black Flag,
Fugazi,
Magazine,
Zero Boys,
The Smiths,
Piero Umiliani,
the Swans,
Boredoms,
Eric Copeland,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
John Lydon,
Kaleidoscope,
Gregory Isaacs,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Bill Wells,
Terry Callier,
Pussy Galore,
Blossom Toes,
Cluster,
Arthur Verocai,
Subhumans,
Niagra,
The Trojans,
The Names,
These Immortal Souls,
Jerry's Kids,
Inner City,
Vainqueur,
Agitation Free,
Banda Bassotti,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Con Funk Shun,
Brick,
Peter and Kerry,
Neil Young,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Gap Band,
Ituana,
The Dirtbombs,
Connie Case,
Infiniti,
In Retrospect,
Lightning Bolt,
The Fortunes,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Remains,
Duran Duran,
Sixth Finger,
The Selecter,
The Offenders, The Offenders, The Offenders, The Offenders.
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.