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 Equatorial Guinea and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Seoul.
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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Pere Ubu to the rap 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 Babytalk. All the underground hits.
All Stetsasonic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dave Gahan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 theremin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispy Ambulance,
The American Breed,
Skriet,
Glambeats Corp.,
Banda Bassotti,
Arthur Verocai,
The Gun Club,
the Sonics,
Alison Limerick,
This Heat,
Qualms,
Magazine,
the Bar-Kays,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Angels of Light,
MC5,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Soft Machine,
The Gories,
Sonic Youth,
Television Personalities,
Joe Finger,
Moebius,
Ronan,
Rod Modell,
Pylon,
Thompson Twins,
Gang of Four,
Pussy Galore,
Bluetip,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Doobie Brothers,
Joensuu 1685,
Negative Approach,
Depeche Mode,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Stiv Bators,
The Selecter,
Grandmaster Flash,
the Normal,
The Count Five,
Trumans Water,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Move,
Cameo,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Minnie Riperton,
Sun City Girls,
Reagan Youth,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Seeds,
The Happenings,
Brothers Johnson,
Erykah Badu,
The Victims,
Sixth Finger,
The Mummies,
Severed Heads,
Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn.
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.