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 United Kingdom and from Bremen.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Motorama to the punk 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 Fat Boys. All the underground hits.
All Angry Samoans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Selector Dub Narcotic 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a mellotron 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 sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Little Man,
Technova,
The Names,
Wolf Eyes,
Glenn Branca,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Iggy Pop,
Parry Music,
T.S.O.L.,
Organ,
The Remains,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Lower 48,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Dawn Penn,
Curtis Mayfield,
Cluster,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Cybotron,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Rites of Spring,
Sam Rivers,
In Retrospect,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Shuggie Otis,
The Seeds,
Symarip,
Mad Mike,
Brick,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
X-101,
Oblivians,
The Alarm Clocks,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Unwound,
Pulsallama,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Brand Nubian,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Skaos,
Babytalk,
Von Mondo,
The Associates,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Toasters,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
A Flock of Seagulls,
David McCallum,
John Lydon,
Ralphi Rosario,
Eden Ahbez,
The Mummies,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Camouflage,
Black Bananas,
Ponytail,
Excepter,
the Germs,
Severed Heads,
Goldenarms, Goldenarms, Goldenarms, Goldenarms.
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.