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 Cape Verde and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the güiro 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 Royal Family And The Poor to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Oppenheimer Analysis. All the underground hits.
All Marine Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Art Ensemble Of Chicago record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Letta Mbulu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chrome,
Liliput,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Fall,
The Busters,
Arcadia,
The Cramps,
Matthew Bourne,
Kerrie Biddell,
Moby Grape,
D'Angelo,
Malaria!,
Vladislav Delay,
Motorama,
Dorothy Ashby,
Ronan,
Yaz,
X-101,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Rites of Spring,
Wally Richardson,
The Electric Prunes,
Boredoms,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Judy Mowatt,
The Saints,
Big Daddy Kane,
Newcleus,
Bobby Byrd,
Blossom Toes,
Derrick Morgan,
The Last Poets,
The J.B.'s,
Curtis Mayfield,
Graham Central Station,
Gang Gang Dance,
Franke,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Maleditus Sound,
Sixth Finger,
DJ Sneak,
Unwound,
the Sonics,
Dennis Brown,
Scan 7,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
The Smiths,
R.M.O.,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Raincoats,
Danielle Patucci,
X-Ray Spex,
Cymande,
Sparks,
Barclay James Harvest,
Half Japanese,
Nirvana,
Section 25,
Tim Buckley,
Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes.
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.