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 Dominica and from Paris.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Jacques Brel to the jazz 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 Lungfish. All the underground hits.
All Roger Hodgson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Copeland record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slick Rick,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Clear Light,
Deadbeat,
Arcadia,
the Slits,
Iggy Pop,
Jeff Mills,
Rufus Thomas,
Brand Nubian,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Suicide,
Dark Day,
Roger Hodgson,
Wolf Eyes,
Shoche,
Pierre Henry,
Eric B and Rakim,
Panda Bear,
Derrick May,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Fugs,
Charles Mingus,
L. Decosne,
Brick,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Animal Collective,
Kool Moe Dee,
Accadde A,
Niagra,
Marvin Gaye,
The Flesh Eaters,
Aswad,
Japan,
Swell Maps,
Harry Pussy,
Whodini,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Circle Jerks,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Trumans Water,
The Divine Comedy,
T. Rex,
Graham Central Station,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Symarip,
The Grass Roots,
The Misunderstood,
Joyce Sims,
Sällskapet,
Blossom Toes,
Hoover,
Amon Düül II,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Bobby Byrd,
H. Thieme,
June of 44,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Wings,
The Motions,
AZ,
Silicon Teens,
Bill Wells, Bill Wells, Bill Wells, Bill Wells.
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.