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 Afghanistan and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Ronan to the grime 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 Trumans Water. All the underground hits.
All Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Drive Like Jehu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Warsaw record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jawbox,
Barclay James Harvest,
E-Dancer,
Arthur Verocai,
Eric Copeland,
Susan Cadogan,
The Neon Judgement,
Alice Coltrane,
Dennis Brown,
Albert Ayler,
T.S.O.L.,
Bang On A Can,
Mars,
Rites of Spring,
Thee Headcoats,
The Sonics,
John Coltrane,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Dead Boys,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Bobby Byrd,
the Fania All-Stars,
the Human League,
Stockholm Monsters,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
L. Decosne,
Leonard Cohen,
K-Klass,
Idris Muhammad,
Rufus Thomas,
The Stooges,
Harpers Bizarre,
Marmalade,
June Days,
The Smiths,
The Smoke,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Angels of Light,
Dark Day,
The Fall,
Dave Gahan,
The Blackbyrds,
Freddie Wadling,
R.M.O.,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Scratch Acid,
Isaac Hayes,
Sister Nancy,
Pagans,
The Doors,
Goldenarms,
The Doobie Brothers,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Rod Modell,
T. Rex,
Quando Quango,
Gerry Rafferty,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Black Bananas,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity.
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.