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 Bahamas and from Milan.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Gichy Dan to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Magazine. All the underground hits.
All The Wake tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Funky Four + One record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Anthony Braxton record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Alarm Clocks,
The Fall,
Trumans Water,
The Count Five,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Young Marble Giants,
The Five Americans,
Funkadelic,
The Moleskins,
Jandek,
Alice Coltrane,
Sex Pistols,
Suburban Knight,
D'Angelo,
Animal Collective,
Black Sheep,
Kurtis Blow,
Rufus Thomas,
Marvin Gaye,
Ten City,
Crash Course in Science,
Arab on Radar,
Marmalade,
Warsaw,
Barbara Tucker,
Scan 7,
June Days,
Jacob Miller,
Bad Manners,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Groovy Waters,
Robert Wyatt,
Johnny Osbourne,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Pretty Things,
Tears for Fears,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Happenings,
Scratch Acid,
Matthew Halsall,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Red Krayola,
Zapp,
Camberwell Now,
the Association,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
ABBA,
Ultravox,
Skarface,
One Last Wish,
CMW,
Chris Corsano,
Leonard Cohen,
Inner City,
Spandau Ballet,
Sam Rivers,
Neil Young,
The Dead C,
Swell Maps,
Judy Mowatt,
Brick,
Alphaville,
ABC,
The Fire Engines, The Fire Engines, The Fire Engines, The Fire Engines.
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.