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 Malawi and from Spokane.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the snare 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 The Slits to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Fluxion. All the underground hits.
All Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultravox record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scientists record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Anakelly,
The Selecter,
Pole,
Wings,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Thompson Twins,
Cal Tjader,
Marshall Jefferson,
John Lydon,
Skriet,
Angry Samoans,
John Coltrane,
Byron Stingily,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Mo-Dettes,
The Doors,
Rotary Connection,
8 Eyed Spy,
Chrome,
Lower 48,
Yusef Lateef,
Pulsallama,
Fela Kuti,
The Dirtbombs,
the Normal,
Swans,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Supertramp,
Wire,
Idris Muhammad,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Los Fastidios,
Aloha Tigers,
Crooked Eye,
The Smoke,
Gastr Del Sol,
Howard Jones,
June Days,
X-102,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Stereo Dub,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Neon Judgement,
The Black Dice,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Erasure,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Rekid,
The Flesh Eaters,
Patti Smith,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Urselle,
Marmalade,
Mantronix,
Tres Demented,
Joyce Sims,
Boz Scaggs,
This Heat,
The Fortunes,
Das Ding,
Index,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy.
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.