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 Moldova and from Spokane.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 X-102 to the disco 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 The Velvet Underground. All the underground hits.
All Eric Copeland tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 an arpeggiator and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tears for Fears,
Lou Reed,
Hot Snakes,
Iggy Pop,
Spoonie Gee,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Das Ding,
Sonic Youth,
Chrome,
Schoolly D,
Joyce Sims,
The Black Dice,
Reagan Youth,
The Smoke,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Amon Düül,
The Blues Magoos,
David McCallum,
Franke,
Aural Exciters,
Lee Hazlewood,
Gastr Del Sol,
Ralphi Rosario,
June of 44,
Easy Going,
Idris Muhammad,
Moebius,
Marine Girls,
Desert Stars,
The Techniques,
10cc,
Anthony Braxton,
The Count Five,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Joensuu 1685,
Popol Vuh,
Lebanon Hanover,
Infiniti,
Letta Mbulu,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Toni Rubio,
Barrington Levy,
cv313,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Arab on Radar,
Joey Negro,
Mary Jane Girls,
Half Japanese,
Lyres,
The Birthday Party,
Mantronix,
Lightning Bolt,
Clear Light,
D'Angelo,
Fatback Band,
Byron Stingily,
Traffic Nightmare,
Funkadelic,
Delta 5,
Ituana, Ituana, Ituana, Ituana.
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.