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 Ukraine and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 Mexico City and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Al Stewart to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 The Blues Magoos. All the underground hits.
All Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kool Moe Dee record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 linndrum and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mummies record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lakeside,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Spoonie Gee,
Brick,
The Invisible,
World's Most,
Lou Christie,
Blancmange,
The Young Rascals,
Graham Central Station,
Babytalk,
The Blues Magoos,
Archie Shepp,
The Smiths,
Harpers Bizarre,
Subhumans,
T.S.O.L.,
The Dead C,
Symarip,
Parry Music,
The Barracudas,
Circle Jerks,
Barbara Tucker,
The Gun Club,
Warsaw,
The Walker Brothers,
The Gladiators,
Stetsasonic,
the Swans,
Bad Manners,
Erykah Badu,
Adolescents,
Sun City Girls,
Dead Boys,
The Techniques,
Sonic Youth,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Gregory Isaacs,
Grey Daturas,
DNA,
Smog,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Litter,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Sun Ra,
Thee Headcoats,
The Raincoats,
Malaria!,
Magazine,
Howard Jones,
Loose Ends,
Brothers Johnson,
Henry Cow,
Minnie Riperton,
The Fuzztones,
Gang of Four,
Delon & Dalcan,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Infiniti,
Suburban Knight,
Chris Corsano,
F. McDonald,
The Last Poets, The Last Poets, The Last Poets, The Last Poets.
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.