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 Sudan and from Beijing.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Association to the disco 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 Guru Guru. All the underground hits.
All Wings tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Symarip record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 48th St. Collective record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Subhumans,
The Slackers,
Theoretical Girls,
Minnie Riperton,
Soft Machine,
Barclay James Harvest,
Reuben Wilson,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Fela Kuti,
Flipper,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Section 25,
EPMD,
Eve St. Jones,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Doobie Brothers,
Motorama,
Bang On A Can,
The Seeds,
The Human League,
The American Breed,
Idris Muhammad,
The Busters,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Cal Tjader,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Eric Dolphy,
Steve Hackett,
Alton Ellis,
The Searchers,
Barry Ungar,
Neu!,
Loose Ends,
Infiniti,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Nik Kershaw,
The Victims,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Jandek,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Crash Course in Science,
Shuggie Otis,
The Fugs,
Soul II Soul,
The Wake,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Pretty Things,
Aswad,
Dual Sessions,
The Detroit Cobras,
Black Flag,
Duran Duran,
Rites of Spring,
Simply Red,
Joensuu 1685,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Pantaleimon,
Todd Rundgren,
Faraquet, Faraquet, Faraquet, Faraquet.
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.