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 Swaziland and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Suburban Knight to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Organ. All the underground hits.
All Rahsaan Roland Kirk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ornette Coleman 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mark Hollis 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?
Harry Pussy,
Jawbox,
Blossom Toes,
Juan Atkins,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Misunderstood,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Bauhaus,
Hardrive,
Von Mondo,
Underground Resistance,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Gastr Del Sol,
Model 500,
Black Moon,
a-ha,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Nils Olav,
Rosa Yemen,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Bobbi Humphrey,
cv313,
Graham Central Station,
The Angels of Light,
Aaron Thompson,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Heaven 17,
Godley & Creme,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Leonard Cohen,
Moss Icon,
LL Cool J,
The Star Department,
Cecil Taylor,
Lakeside,
Chrome,
The Standells,
The Shadows of Knight,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Buzzcocks,
Dead Boys,
Swell Maps,
Lyres,
Bob Dylan,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Motorama,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Flesh Eaters,
H. Thieme,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Mojo Men,
Nation of Ulysses,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Black Dice,
Supertramp,
Bush Tetras,
Maurizio,
Circle Jerks,
The Chocolate Watch Band, The Chocolate Watch Band, The Chocolate Watch Band, The Chocolate Watch Band.
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.