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 Iceland and from Calgary.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Wake to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every U.S. Maple record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 a snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Womack record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Reuben Wilson,
Joensuu 1685,
David McCallum,
The Fall,
Reagan Youth,
Unwound,
Sixth Finger,
Banda Bassotti,
Joe Finger,
The Red Krayola,
Rekid,
the Slits,
The Knickerbockers,
The Sonics,
Laurel Aitken,
Marc Almond,
Donald Byrd,
The Invisible,
L. Decosne,
Talk Talk,
Pierre Henry,
Pantytec,
Shoche,
The Durutti Column,
Dark Day,
Wasted Youth,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Guru Guru,
Joey Negro,
Pagans,
Inner City,
PIL,
Trumans Water,
The Stooges,
New Order,
Quantec,
Symarip,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Toasters,
E-Dancer,
Fat Boys,
Idris Muhammad,
Don Cherry,
The Techniques,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Graham Central Station,
The Flesh Eaters,
Judy Mowatt,
Danielle Patucci,
Panda Bear,
Joyce Sims,
Suburban Knight,
Deepchord,
Organ,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Minutemen,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Grey Daturas,
Hot Snakes,
Gang Gang Dance,
Joy Division, Joy Division, Joy Division, Joy Division.
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.