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 Bahamas and from Woodstock.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 The Young Rascals to the grime 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All The Sisters of Mercy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Eating Sloth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Q65 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aswad,
The Standells,
The Cramps,
the Normal,
Gichy Dan,
Toni Rubio,
Sexual Harrassment,
Blossom Toes,
Pantaleimon,
The Knickerbockers,
Michelle Simonal,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Swans,
Skaos,
Thee Headcoats,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Motions,
The J.B.'s,
The Detroit Cobras,
Howard Jones,
Rotary Connection,
Oblivians,
The Stooges,
Niagra,
Colin Newman,
The Neon Judgement,
The Offenders,
Kas Product,
Donald Byrd,
Von Mondo,
Kenny Larkin,
The Wake,
Danielle Patucci,
L. Decosne,
Eric Copeland,
Dorothy Ashby,
Minutemen,
Zero Boys,
Moebius,
Amon Düül,
Funkadelic,
Joe Finger,
Fat Boys,
Judy Mowatt,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Neu!,
Letta Mbulu,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Ituana,
Yellowson,
Arab on Radar,
Metal Thangz,
The Birthday Party,
Nik Kershaw,
The Smiths,
Dave Gahan,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Invisible,
E-Dancer,
Bill Near,
Bush Tetras,
JFA,
The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos.
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.