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 Argentina and from Glasgow.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Spokane.
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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Remains to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Traffic Nightmare. All the underground hits.
All Prince Buster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slave record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Absolute Body Control record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Black Dice,
Charles Mingus,
Amon Düül II,
Ultra Naté,
The Misunderstood,
The Evens,
Big Daddy Kane,
Angry Samoans,
Dave Gahan,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Cure,
T.S.O.L.,
Animal Collective,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Quadrant,
John Holt,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Gun Club,
10cc,
Young Marble Giants,
The Happenings,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Kerrie Biddell,
CMW,
Flipper,
Ronan,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Ken Boothe,
Main Source,
Urselle,
Tomorrow,
The Skatalites,
Avey Tare,
Bizarre Inc.,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Tommy Roe,
Intrusion,
Gerry Rafferty,
Half Japanese,
Interpol,
Rites of Spring,
Scratch Acid,
Nico,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Black Sheep,
Marvin Gaye,
Nation of Ulysses,
Nas,
James White and The Blacks,
Saccharine Trust,
Letta Mbulu,
Flamin' Groovies,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Q and Not U,
Radio Birdman,
Anakelly,
Zero Boys,
Albert Ayler,
Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon.
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.