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 Sri Lanka and from Hong Kong.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Lyon.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 World's Most to the crunk 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 Parry Music. All the underground hits.
All The Doors tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rhythim Is Rhythim 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Charles Mingus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roy Ayers,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Ralphi Rosario,
Audionom,
Deadbeat,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Rites of Spring,
Con Funk Shun,
Radiopuhelimet,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Sugar Minott,
ABC,
The Fire Engines,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Remains,
The Beau Brummels,
Amon Düül II,
The Shadows of Knight,
Yellowson,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Derrick Morgan,
Man Eating Sloth,
Kurtis Blow,
Howard Jones,
the Fania All-Stars,
Y Pants,
Man Parrish,
the Germs,
Lucky Dragons,
Amon Düül,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Eli Mardock,
Make Up,
Nation of Ulysses,
Grauzone,
Wire,
Subhumans,
Ten City,
Mad Mike,
China Crisis,
Dual Sessions,
Bob Dylan,
Harpers Bizarre,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Robert Görl,
Sight & Sound,
MDC,
Marcia Griffiths,
Bobby Womack,
Bobby Sherman,
Tres Demented,
David Axelrod,
Basic Channel,
Bill Wells,
Bobby Byrd,
Buzzcocks,
The Residents,
Delta 5,
Excepter, Excepter, Excepter, Excepter.
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.