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 Kiribati and from Houston.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 Terrestrial Tones to the electroclash 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 Bang On A Can. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Byrd tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Outsiders record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Laurel Aitken record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Khruangbin,
Moebius,
Youth Brigade,
The Leaves,
James White and The Blacks,
Traffic Nightmare,
Sandy B,
Janne Schatter,
A Certain Ratio,
The Sonics,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Tremeloes,
The Shadows of Knight,
Al Stewart,
Fugazi,
The Young Rascals,
Flash Fearless,
Fatback Band,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Funky Four + One,
The Star Department,
Franke,
Aloha Tigers,
Eric Copeland,
Minutemen,
Interpol,
Jimmy McGriff,
Charles Mingus,
Gichy Dan,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Talk Talk,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Reuben Wilson,
Lyres,
Bang On A Can,
Trumans Water,
The Martian,
10cc,
Mo-Dettes,
Jeru the Damaja,
Skaos,
Johnny Osbourne,
Ice-T,
Monolake,
FM Einheit,
Harry Pussy,
Erykah Badu,
The Evens,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Red Krayola,
Main Source,
Procol Harum,
Girls At Our Best!,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Porter Ricks,
Chrome,
Patti Smith,
Hasil Adkins,
Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners.
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.