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 Seychelles and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 clarinet 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 Country Teasers to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 ABBA. All the underground hits.
All The Walker Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lizzy Mercier Descloux record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nik Kershaw record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Vainqueur,
Donny Hathaway,
Gang Green,
The Blackbyrds,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Kayak,
Ludus,
The Seeds,
Eli Mardock,
Bobby Byrd,
Hardrive,
Black Flag,
Brick,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Tears for Fears,
A Certain Ratio,
Tres Demented,
Scratch Acid,
Blake Baxter,
Grauzone,
Johnny Clarke,
Alison Limerick,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Josef K,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
UT,
Traffic Nightmare,
Guru Guru,
Hoover,
Robert Görl,
David McCallum,
Wire,
Derrick Morgan,
Sun City Girls,
The Raincoats,
John Cale,
U.S. Maple,
Alton Ellis,
Shoche,
John Coltrane,
The Golliwogs,
Yazoo,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Silicon Teens,
Ituana,
Avey Tare,
The Durutti Column,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Soul Sonic Force,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Los Fastidios,
Crooked Eye,
The Kinks,
Urselle,
Gil Scott Heron,
Patti Smith,
The Fall,
Kool Moe Dee,
Wolf Eyes,
Fatback Band,
Das Ding, Das Ding, Das Ding, Das Ding.
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.