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 Liechtenstein 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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 A Flock of Seagulls to the grunge 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 Liliput. All the underground hits.
All Ponytail tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Raincoats record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Symarip,
Khruangbin,
Glenn Branca,
Public Enemy,
Nils Olav,
the Sonics,
Nirvana,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Mary Jane Girls,
Neu!,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Fortunes,
This Heat,
The Monochrome Set,
The Residents,
The Slits,
Minnie Riperton,
Bobby Sherman,
Joyce Sims,
Lalann,
Spoonie Gee,
Donny Hathaway,
Mantronix,
Sound Behaviour,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
L. Decosne,
The Cowsills,
Animal Collective,
The Fuzztones,
Index,
Eric Dolphy,
Darondo,
Magazine,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Roger Hodgson,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Popol Vuh,
The Grass Roots,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Hoover,
Big Daddy Kane,
Derrick Morgan,
Harry Pussy,
The Black Dice,
Sam Rivers,
Mad Mike,
In Retrospect,
Scrapy,
Gastr Del Sol,
Aural Exciters,
Nico,
Dawn Penn,
48th St. Collective,
K-Klass,
Mars,
OOIOO,
Subhumans,
Pussy Galore,
New Order,
Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach.
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.