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 Namibia and from Taipei.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Eddi Front to the rock 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 Alphaville. All the underground hits.
All The Zeros tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Slackers 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grandmaster Flash,
Zapp,
Gichy Dan,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Youth Brigade,
Parry Music,
The Trojans,
Juan Atkins,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Birthday Party,
Oblivians,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Surgeon,
Intrusion,
Brothers Johnson,
Hasil Adkins,
Icehouse,
Soft Cell,
Niagra,
Wings,
Smog,
Outsiders,
Robert Görl,
the Germs,
The Toasters,
Babytalk,
Dorothy Ashby,
Rotary Connection,
Nas,
John Coltrane,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Jawbox,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Prince Buster,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Subhumans,
Arcadia,
Wolf Eyes,
Con Funk Shun,
The Smiths,
The Gories,
the Bar-Kays,
Glambeats Corp.,
Harmonia,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Quadrant,
The Gladiators,
The Tremeloes,
Angry Samoans,
Steve Hackett,
Maleditus Sound,
Alton Ellis,
Circle Jerks,
Dark Day,
Grey Daturas,
Dead Boys,
Infiniti,
A Certain Ratio,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
K-Klass, K-Klass, K-Klass, K-Klass.
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.