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 Grenada and from Tokyo.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Faust to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Matthew Halsall. All the underground hits.
All Sarah Menescal tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Residents record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 spring reverb and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terror Squad Feat. Camron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron 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 Saints,
Colin Newman,
Soulsonic Force,
Gang Starr,
The Angels of Light,
Spandau Ballet,
Suburban Knight,
Lucky Dragons,
Kurtis Blow,
Mission of Burma,
Sex Pistols,
Todd Rundgren,
Pulsallama,
Excepter,
The Techniques,
10cc,
The Busters,
Average White Band,
Roy Ayers,
Liliput,
Aaron Thompson,
Magma,
June of 44,
Tom Boy,
The Zeros,
Circle Jerks,
Harmonia,
The Golliwogs,
Sound Behaviour,
Minny Pops,
Thompson Twins,
Nik Kershaw,
China Crisis,
Cluster,
Pantytec,
Al Stewart,
Kayak,
Organ,
KRS-One,
OOIOO,
Bob Dylan,
CMW,
Henry Cow,
Underground Resistance,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Mojo Men,
Roxette,
The Last Poets,
The Move,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Steve Hackett,
Lebanon Hanover,
Morten Harket,
Crispian St. Peters,
Brand Nubian,
Derrick Morgan,
the Swans,
Inner City,
the Normal,
Nirvana,
D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo.
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.