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 Philippines and from Manchester.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the marimba 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 The American Breed to the techno 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 Archie Shepp. All the underground hits.
All Erasure tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every De La Soul & Jungle Brothers 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Public Enemy,
Gang Green,
Barclay James Harvest,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Tim Buckley,
Hot Snakes,
Pylon,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Cramps,
Kas Product,
Bootsy Collins,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Barry Ungar,
Newcleus,
the Sonics,
Japan,
U.S. Maple,
The Detroit Cobras,
Eli Mardock,
The Music Machine,
Peter & Gordon,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Bad Manners,
The Busters,
MC5,
Mantronix,
The New Christs,
Black Moon,
Moebius,
Stockholm Monsters,
Dead Boys,
E-Dancer,
Anthony Braxton,
Urselle,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Harpers Bizarre,
Todd Rundgren,
Amon Düül II,
Visage,
DJ Sneak,
Wally Richardson,
Metal Thangz,
Bobby Sherman,
Marshall Jefferson,
Index,
EPMD,
Can,
Surgeon,
Reagan Youth,
Soul II Soul,
The Tremeloes,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Idris Muhammad,
Amon Düül,
Warsaw,
Motorama,
Lee Hazlewood,
Man Parrish,
The Martian,
Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus.
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.