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 Nauru and from Paris.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Agent Orange to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Marvin Gaye. All the underground hits.
All The Music Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vaughan Mason & Crew record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a ABBA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Blackbyrds,
Smog,
T.S.O.L.,
The Buckinghams,
Thompson Twins,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Tommy Roe,
The Gladiators,
Alton Ellis,
The Saints,
Colin Newman,
The Sonics,
Delta 5,
Liliput,
Parry Music,
Theoretical Girls,
T. Rex,
Stereo Dub,
Kaleidoscope,
Silicon Teens,
Youth Brigade,
The Smoke,
Piero Umiliani,
Michelle Simonal,
Donald Byrd,
Wally Richardson,
ABBA,
Con Funk Shun,
Lungfish,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Crispy Ambulance,
Y Pants,
The Velvet Underground,
The Invisible,
James White and The Blacks,
MDC,
John Cale,
The Cramps,
Lower 48,
Steve Hackett,
Agitation Free,
Stockholm Monsters,
Man Eating Sloth,
Symarip,
Livin' Joy,
Eden Ahbez,
Skaos,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Pussy Galore,
The Shadows of Knight,
Barbara Tucker,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Camberwell Now,
The Seeds,
Terrestrial Tones,
Talk Talk,
The Blues Magoos,
Accadde A,
KRS-One,
Franke,
The Doors, The Doors, The Doors, The Doors.
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.