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 El Salvador and from Columbus.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 chamberlin 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 The Selecter to the disco 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 The Smiths. All the underground hits.
All Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roy Ayers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mission of Burma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faust,
Toni Rubio,
Freddie Wadling,
Ossler,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Tim Buckley,
The Shadows of Knight,
Warsaw,
MDC,
Curtis Mayfield,
Liliput,
The Remains,
Niagra,
Half Japanese,
Pylon,
Los Fastidios,
Whodini,
Sonic Youth,
Frankie Knuckles,
Archie Shepp,
Pere Ubu,
Loose Ends,
Fatback Band,
Harry Pussy,
Tomorrow,
Crash Course in Science,
Joe Smooth,
Carl Craig,
Fad Gadget,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Nick Fraelich,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Gong,
A Certain Ratio,
Mo-Dettes,
Girls At Our Best!,
In Retrospect,
Chris Corsano,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Skriet,
The Skatalites,
Brand Nubian,
K-Klass,
R.M.O.,
Brothers Johnson,
Deepchord,
The Gladiators,
John Foxx,
Quantec,
The Fire Engines,
Minnie Riperton,
Scratch Acid,
ABC,
PIL,
Lou Reed,
Sex Pistols,
Reagan Youth,
Bobby Womack,
Bizarre Inc.,
Joe Finger,
a-ha, a-ha, a-ha, a-ha.
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.