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 Poland and from Shanghai.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar 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 Todd Rundgren to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Brothers Johnson. All the underground hits.
All The Gun Club tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Velvet Underground record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 clarinet and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Pus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Agent Orange,
Oblivians,
Joe Smooth,
Kayak,
New Order,
The Cramps,
Amon Düül II,
The Toasters,
Intrusion,
10cc,
Black Sheep,
Camouflage,
Y Pants,
Brothers Johnson,
Malaria!,
Cal Tjader,
Zapp,
Gil Scott Heron,
Arcadia,
Mary Jane Girls,
Little Man,
Roy Ayers,
Jeff Lynne,
Pere Ubu,
Nik Kershaw,
The Detroit Cobras,
Barry Ungar,
Alton Ellis,
The Fortunes,
The Raincoats,
Bob Dylan,
Scan 7,
Pantytec,
Parry Music,
Hashim,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Vogues,
Marcia Griffiths,
Roxy Music,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Dark Day,
Mandrill,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Wasted Youth,
The Move,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Busters,
The Fall,
Negative Approach,
Thompson Twins,
Marvin Gaye,
Erasure,
Dennis Brown,
The Fugs,
L. Decosne,
The Misunderstood,
Barbara Tucker,
Aaron Thompson,
Minor Threat,
Flipper, Flipper, Flipper, Flipper.
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.