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 United Kingdom and from Madrid.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 güiro 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 Sex Pistols to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth. All the underground hits.
All The Fuzztones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Womack record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Faraquet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terrestrial Tones,
Grey Daturas,
Rakim,
Harry Pussy,
Tears for Fears,
Youth Brigade,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Mandrill,
Amazonics,
Warsaw,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Jacques Brel,
Tomorrow,
Con Funk Shun,
Unwound,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
JFA,
Country Teasers,
Charles Mingus,
Mr. Review,
Vladislav Delay,
The Pop Group,
F. McDonald,
Y Pants,
Godley & Creme,
Guru Guru,
Motorama,
The Cowsills,
The Fuzztones,
Wire,
Alton Ellis,
The Monochrome Set,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Pantytec,
Sarah Menescal,
Quando Quango,
Thee Headcoats,
These Immortal Souls,
Roxette,
T.S.O.L.,
Wolf Eyes,
Half Japanese,
X-102,
The Evens,
Silicon Teens,
the Human League,
Rosa Yemen,
Blancmange,
the Swans,
Dead Boys,
Blake Baxter,
Depeche Mode,
Lou Reed,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Black Dice,
Bush Tetras,
The Sound,
Excepter,
Sonic Youth,
Rod Modell,
Swell Maps,
Dawn Penn,
DJ Style, DJ Style, DJ Style, DJ Style.
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.