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 Switzerland and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 linndrum 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 The Sonics to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 48th St. Collective. All the underground hits.
All Scratch Acid tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Royal Family And The Poor 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scrapy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
L. Decosne,
Nils Olav,
Jeff Lynne,
The Alarm Clocks,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Byron Stingily,
James White and The Blacks,
Kenny Larkin,
Popol Vuh,
The Detroit Cobras,
Anthony Braxton,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Iggy Pop,
Steve Hackett,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Faust,
Magma,
Eve St. Jones,
Gerry Rafferty,
Bizarre Inc.,
Desert Stars,
Barclay James Harvest,
Supertramp,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Zapp,
The Kinks,
Sex Pistols,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
10cc,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Public Image Ltd.,
Todd Rundgren,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Whodini,
Rapeman,
Eurythmics,
Bauhaus,
Barry Ungar,
Cal Tjader,
The Sound,
Danielle Patucci,
FM Einheit,
The Moody Blues,
Andrew Hill,
Nas,
The Tremeloes,
Young Marble Giants,
Jeru the Damaja,
Deakin,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Wake,
The Modern Lovers,
Girls At Our Best!,
Piero Umiliani,
Chris Corsano,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Joey Negro,
Lalo Schifrin,
Terrestrial Tones,
Jeff Mills,
Groovy Waters,
Parry Music, Parry Music, Parry Music, Parry Music.
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.