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 Nepal and from Edmonton.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 H. Thieme to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Electric Light Orchestra. All the underground hits.
All The Move tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Bananas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cramps record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Mr. Review,
The United States of America,
It's A Beautiful Day,
David McCallum,
ABBA,
Danielle Patucci,
Visage,
Angry Samoans,
Wings,
The Human League,
John Holt,
Ultimate Spinach,
Ultravox,
The Gun Club,
Thompson Twins,
Thee Headcoats,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Newcleus,
Half Japanese,
Schoolly D,
The Mummies,
Pantytec,
Nirvana,
The Pop Group,
Second Layer,
The Doobie Brothers,
Glambeats Corp.,
Crispy Ambulance,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Saccharine Trust,
Ohio Players,
Maurizio,
Barry Ungar,
Lightning Bolt,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Sixth Finger,
Quadrant,
Rufus Thomas,
Loose Ends,
Tears for Fears,
Frankie Knuckles,
Nick Fraelich,
Jeru the Damaja,
Fad Gadget,
Siglo XX,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sandy B,
Hasil Adkins,
Jandek,
Deadbeat,
Marcia Griffiths,
Godley & Creme,
La Düsseldorf,
Eve St. Jones,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Selecter,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
New York Dolls, New York Dolls, New York Dolls, New York Dolls.
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.