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 Luxembourg and from Manila.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Madrid.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 Fire Engines to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Reagan Youth. All the underground hits.
All Eden Ahbez tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispian St. Peters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobbi Humphrey record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Searchers,
Ice-T,
Bootsy Collins,
Interpol,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Knickerbockers,
Tom Boy,
Carl Craig,
Babytalk,
The Standells,
The Cowsills,
Dawn Penn,
The Seeds,
Mo-Dettes,
Gang Gang Dance,
Ornette Coleman,
The Motions,
Panda Bear,
Con Funk Shun,
Sun City Girls,
Dorothy Ashby,
Tommy Roe,
The Count Five,
E-Dancer,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Ronnie Foster,
Jeff Lynne,
Fela Kuti,
Al Stewart,
Eric Copeland,
Minutemen,
Nirvana,
Barry Ungar,
Glambeats Corp.,
Bronski Beat,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Sight & Sound,
Darondo,
David McCallum,
Joyce Sims,
Lightning Bolt,
Unwound,
Colin Newman,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Divine Comedy,
Aswad,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
David Bowie,
The Fortunes,
Cameo,
Scientists,
Harry Pussy,
Scrapy,
B.T. Express,
The Pretty Things,
Quadrant,
Gong,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Red Krayola,
Cybotron,
Royal Trux,
PIL, PIL, PIL, PIL.
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.