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 Taiwan and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 harpsichord 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 Crime to the electroclash 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 T. Rex. All the underground hits.
All Skaos tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tropical Tobacco record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Maurizio record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Monolake,
Yusef Lateef,
Tommy Roe,
Soft Machine,
Susan Cadogan,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Young Marble Giants,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Grass Roots,
Eric B and Rakim,
Amon Düül II,
Gabor Szabo,
Masters at Work,
The Human League,
Althea and Donna,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Seeds,
Rapeman,
Unrelated Segments,
June of 44,
Nas,
Tears for Fears,
The Doors,
Gang Green,
Outsiders,
Drive Like Jehu,
Lakeside,
Joey Negro,
Make Up,
Kevin Saunderson,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Evens,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Janne Schatter,
The Monks,
Derrick May,
The Angels of Light,
Los Fastidios,
Roxette,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Young Rascals,
Maurizio,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
KRS-One,
The Cowsills,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Joensuu 1685,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
L. Decosne,
Slick Rick,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
June Days,
Rod Modell,
Flamin' Groovies,
Howard Jones,
Infiniti,
Pet Shop Boys,
Buzzcocks,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
These Immortal Souls,
the Sonics,
Man Eating Sloth,
Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish.
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.