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 Zimbabwe and from Cairo.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Moody Blues to the rap 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 Neil Young & Crazy Horse. All the underground hits.
All Brass Construction 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 grime 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 an oboe and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a kango's stein massive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Flamin' Groovies,
Hot Snakes,
Quando Quango,
Lyres,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Cowsills,
Wally Richardson,
Maurizio,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Black Moon,
Shoche,
The Cosmic Jokers,
PIL,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Maleditus Sound,
The Invisible,
Minutemen,
Index,
Clear Light,
Mark Hollis,
Faraquet,
The Gap Band,
Dawn Penn,
T.S.O.L.,
K-Klass,
Rites of Spring,
The Black Dice,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Dirtbombs,
The Birthday Party,
Crispy Ambulance,
Audionom,
Ultravox,
Scion,
8 Eyed Spy,
Excepter,
Bobby Womack,
Skaos,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Mr. Review,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Gories,
Cybotron,
The Searchers,
Prince Buster,
Alison Limerick,
Motorama,
Sex Pistols,
Minor Threat,
The Motions,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Nation of Ulysses,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Little Man, Little Man, Little Man, Little Man.
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.