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 Guinea-Bissau and from Taipei.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 June Days to the grunge 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 Crooked Eye. All the underground hits.
All Index tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fugazi record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kurtis Blow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wings,
Fela Kuti,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Los Fastidios,
Dead Boys,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Bill Near,
Eric B and Rakim,
Joey Negro,
UT,
Sun Ra,
Sarah Menescal,
Mo-Dettes,
Desert Stars,
Johnny Clarke,
Rod Modell,
The Standells,
The Count Five,
Skaos,
Negative Approach,
Suicide,
Erasure,
Stiv Bators,
Procol Harum,
Qualms,
Chris Corsano,
Subhumans,
Donny Hathaway,
Erykah Badu,
The Human League,
Todd Rundgren,
the Germs,
the Slits,
Severed Heads,
June Days,
The Angels of Light,
Wasted Youth,
Quadrant,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Gun Club,
The Alarm Clocks,
Nik Kershaw,
Motorama,
Can,
Surgeon,
F. McDonald,
Lou Christie,
Gichy Dan,
Crispian St. Peters,
ABC,
Sixth Finger,
MDC,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Minor Threat,
The New Christs,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Todd Terry,
Ultimate Spinach,
E-Dancer,
Derrick Morgan,
The Dave Clark Five,
Duran Duran,
Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe.
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.