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 Burundi and from New York.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Massinfluence. All the underground hits.
All Magazine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Guru Guru 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Isaac Hayes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Selecter,
Flipper,
Eric Copeland,
R.M.O.,
Tim Buckley,
The Music Machine,
Prince Buster,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Porter Ricks,
Moby Grape,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Cecil Taylor,
The Pop Group,
Sam Rivers,
Excepter,
This Heat,
Sonic Youth,
The Zeros,
Faraquet,
The Gladiators,
Kurtis Blow,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Human League,
Rod Modell,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Max Romeo,
Matthew Halsall,
Gichy Dan,
Glenn Branca,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Ash Ra Tempel,
the Human League,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Mantronix,
Loose Ends,
Reagan Youth,
The Remains,
Delta 5,
Deakin,
Maurizio,
The Last Poets,
Robert Görl,
Easy Going,
Mo-Dettes,
Fear,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Cramps,
Bauhaus,
Suburban Knight,
Neu!,
the Swans,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Scratch Acid,
Vladislav Delay,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Make Up,
the Soft Cell,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Rekid,
Davy DMX,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood.
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.