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 Tuvalu 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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Terry Callier to the disco 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 Gary Puckett & The Union Gap. All the underground hits.
All The Neon Judgement tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pantytec record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slackers,
The United States of America,
Fugazi,
Minor Threat,
Rekid,
Wings,
Reuben Wilson,
Niagra,
Man Parrish,
Magma,
Neu!,
Mars,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Buzzcocks,
Warren Ellis,
The Remains,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Zeros,
Joe Finger,
Country Teasers,
Scratch Acid,
Intrusion,
The Slits,
Lyres,
Crash Course in Science,
The Names,
Sixth Finger,
A Certain Ratio,
Black Sheep,
Camouflage,
Gichy Dan,
The Beau Brummels,
Public Enemy,
Michelle Simonal,
Newcleus,
Gregory Isaacs,
Audionom,
Rod Modell,
L. Decosne,
Isaac Hayes,
Pharoah Sanders,
Tubeway Army,
Traffic Nightmare,
June of 44,
Marvin Gaye,
Alice Coltrane,
Echospace,
8 Eyed Spy,
Lalann,
Interpol,
Chris & Cosey,
Easy Going,
Girls At Our Best!,
Pantytec,
The Gap Band,
The Durutti Column,
The Five Americans,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Kayak,
Skarface,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Monks,
Fatback Band,
Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti.
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.