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 Congo and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Suburban Knight to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Donald Byrd. All the underground hits.
All Drive Like Jehu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eve St. Jones 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Au Pairs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Swans,
Moby Grape,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
PIL,
John Cale,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Vladislav Delay,
Eric B and Rakim,
Yaz,
Jeff Lynne,
Lalann,
Dawn Penn,
Lyres,
Barclay James Harvest,
Average White Band,
Brick,
Public Enemy,
Television Personalities,
Johnny Osbourne,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Curtis Mayfield,
Robert Görl,
Aswad,
Con Funk Shun,
Tommy Roe,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Ultimate Spinach,
Ornette Coleman,
CMW,
Eden Ahbez,
Make Up,
The Martian,
Hasil Adkins,
Delon & Dalcan,
Arcadia,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Human League,
Oblivians,
Peter & Gordon,
June Days,
New York Dolls,
Black Sheep,
Crime,
Bill Near,
8 Eyed Spy,
Section 25,
Motorama,
The Five Americans,
Prince Buster,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Letta Mbulu,
Donny Hathaway,
Marcia Griffiths,
Amon Düül II,
Livin' Joy,
Sandy B,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Red Krayola,
Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes.
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.