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 Senegal and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Columbus.
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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 MDC to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Gary Puckett & The Union Gap. All the underground hits.
All Yaz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Accadde A record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 guitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pantaleimon,
Matthew Bourne,
The Five Americans,
Skaos,
Graham Central Station,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Freddie Wadling,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Inner City,
Absolute Body Control,
Godley & Creme,
James White and The Blacks,
Tommy Roe,
Spandau Ballet,
Fatback Band,
Oblivians,
Brothers Johnson,
K-Klass,
Pharoah Sanders,
John Lydon,
Echospace,
Rakim,
Skriet,
Don Cherry,
Young Marble Giants,
Severed Heads,
The Velvet Underground,
Youth Brigade,
Dual Sessions,
The Pretty Things,
Sex Pistols,
Minnie Riperton,
Von Mondo,
Juan Atkins,
Eden Ahbez,
Porter Ricks,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Charles Mingus,
Sandy B,
The Mojo Men,
The Vogues,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Bang On A Can,
Harpers Bizarre,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Doobie Brothers,
Dark Day,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Electric Prunes,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Bauhaus,
Amon Düül,
the Soft Cell,
The Beau Brummels,
Rhythm & Sound,
Malaria!,
DJ Sneak,
David Axelrod,
Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye.
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.