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 the UAE and from Madrid.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Stockholm.
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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Tim Buckley to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Ossler. All the underground hits.
All Nirvana tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Throbbing Gristle record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 an organ and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fugs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dead Boys,
The Moody Blues,
Steve Hackett,
Make Up,
Aloha Tigers,
Mandrill,
the Swans,
Albert Ayler,
The Black Dice,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Moleskins,
Monks,
The Move,
Johnny Osbourne,
Marshall Jefferson,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Faust,
Yaz,
Slick Rick,
Gang Starr,
Shuggie Otis,
Terrestrial Tones,
Schoolly D,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Terry Callier,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Black Pus,
Bauhaus,
CMW,
The United States of America,
The Dead C,
Ronan,
Magma,
Blake Baxter,
Siglo XX,
Fatback Band,
Sam Rivers,
Radiopuhelimet,
Barrington Levy,
Pylon,
Index,
Ralphi Rosario,
Yellowson,
Isaac Hayes,
Scan 7,
Aural Exciters,
Zero Boys,
Pussy Galore,
Scion,
Thee Headcoats,
Marvin Gaye,
Symarip,
Bush Tetras,
The Index,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Grass Roots,
The Happenings,
Pere Ubu,
Unrelated Segments, Unrelated Segments, Unrelated Segments, Unrelated Segments.
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.