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 Suriname and from Shanghai.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Lebanon Hanover to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Shuggie Otis. All the underground hits.
All Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every UT 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Man Parrish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Goldenarms,
Khruangbin,
Jeff Mills,
Colin Newman,
New Age Steppers,
The Zeros,
Inner City,
Cymande,
Tears for Fears,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Darondo,
The Monks,
F. McDonald,
The Blackbyrds,
Buzzcocks,
Bad Manners,
Juan Atkins,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Sister Nancy,
Trumans Water,
Nico,
Harry Pussy,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Althea and Donna,
the Soft Cell,
The Dead C,
Qualms,
Aural Exciters,
Masters at Work,
Crooked Eye,
Liliput,
The Sound,
Tommy Roe,
Fat Boys,
Youth Brigade,
Thompson Twins,
Kool Moe Dee,
Ohio Players,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Second Layer,
ABC,
The Divine Comedy,
Bauhaus,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Cure,
Scott Walker,
The Saints,
B.T. Express,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Niagra,
John Holt,
KRS-One,
Schoolly D,
The Fuzztones,
Throbbing Gristle,
Circle Jerks,
Au Pairs,
Josef K,
Amon Düül,
Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses.
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.