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 Uganda and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 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 Peter and Kerry to the jazz 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 Robert Hood. All the underground hits.
All Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dorothy Ashby 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a One Last Wish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Model 500,
Sandy B,
Brick,
Archie Shepp,
Jandek,
Crooked Eye,
Robert Wyatt,
Reagan Youth,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Slave,
Tears for Fears,
Royal Trux,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Deadbeat,
Vladislav Delay,
June of 44,
Intrusion,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Curtis Mayfield,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Dave Clark Five,
Hoover,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Five Americans,
Los Fastidios,
In Retrospect,
Grey Daturas,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Wasted Youth,
Gang Green,
Alton Ellis,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
FM Einheit,
Jawbox,
Blake Baxter,
Jacques Brel,
Sex Pistols,
Loose Ends,
the Normal,
The Grass Roots,
The Slackers,
Urselle,
10cc,
Subhumans,
Faust,
Delta 5,
The Buckinghams,
the Slits,
Mandrill,
Morten Harket,
The Modern Lovers,
Gil Scott Heron,
Gang Starr,
The Martian,
Tubeway Army,
The Count Five,
F. McDonald,
Jeff Lynne,
The J.B.'s,
Kaleidoscope,
Maurizio,
Whodini, Whodini, Whodini, Whodini.
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.