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 Gambia 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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Loose Ends to the grime 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 Kerri Chandler. All the underground hits.
All Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every World's Most 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 arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Patti Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Whodini,
The Standells,
Kayak,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Divine Comedy,
F. McDonald,
cv313,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Bobby Womack,
Anakelly,
The Vogues,
Shuggie Otis,
Marine Girls,
The Golliwogs,
Rufus Thomas,
Reagan Youth,
Fatback Band,
Harpers Bizarre,
Zero Boys,
Oblivians,
Pole,
Alison Limerick,
Darondo,
The Doobie Brothers,
Joey Negro,
The Neon Judgement,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Cluster,
Crime,
The Raincoats,
Magma,
The Busters,
OOIOO,
Black Bananas,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Jacques Brel,
Babytalk,
James White and The Blacks,
Avey Tare,
Tubeway Army,
Yazoo,
Mission of Burma,
Slave,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Porter Ricks,
Terrestrial Tones,
Yaz,
China Crisis,
Iggy Pop,
Chris Corsano,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Gladiators,
Morten Harket,
Supertramp,
Ten City,
Sexual Harrassment,
the Normal,
Buzzcocks,
Lower 48, Lower 48, Lower 48, Lower 48.
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.