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 Germany and from Seoul.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and New York.
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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Letta Mbulu to the rap 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 Underground Resistance. All the underground hits.
All John Cale tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every ABC 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scott Walker record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Circle Jerks,
Eurythmics,
Rhythm & Sound,
Bizarre Inc.,
Suicide,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Smoke,
Charles Mingus,
Depeche Mode,
the Association,
Cal Tjader,
Crispian St. Peters,
Connie Case,
The Monks,
Joe Finger,
Lucky Dragons,
Rites of Spring,
Dual Sessions,
Dead Boys,
June of 44,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Sexual Harrassment,
Bobby Byrd,
Roxette,
T.S.O.L.,
The Fuzztones,
Warsaw,
Japan,
Sun City Girls,
Average White Band,
Ice-T,
Ultravox,
Black Moon,
Leonard Cohen,
Idris Muhammad,
Brand Nubian,
Roxy Music,
Erasure,
Maleditus Sound,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Beau Brummels,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Dead C,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Slackers,
Yazoo,
Smog,
John Holt,
Can,
Clear Light,
Adolescents,
Liliput,
The Busters,
Kaleidoscope,
The Five Americans,
Judy Mowatt,
Lakeside,
Terry Callier,
Nick Fraelich,
Roger Hodgson,
Cymande,
Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco.
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.