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 Venezuela and from Taipei.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Rakim to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 a-ha. All the underground hits.
All kango's stein massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boogie Down Productions 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Quadrant record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Motorama,
Alice Coltrane,
Donald Byrd,
Carl Craig,
Index,
Fugazi,
Yaz,
Black Bananas,
Donny Hathaway,
Rapeman,
The Fall,
Panda Bear,
Stiv Bators,
Mo-Dettes,
Flamin' Groovies,
Crooked Eye,
D'Angelo,
Nico,
Accadde A,
Mantronix,
Intrusion,
Todd Rundgren,
Neil Young,
a-ha,
Joyce Sims,
Eric Dolphy,
Black Moon,
Little Man,
JFA,
Faust,
DNA,
Hasil Adkins,
Sexual Harrassment,
Kayak,
Nik Kershaw,
Niagra,
Hot Snakes,
Bang On A Can,
Brothers Johnson,
Angry Samoans,
Darondo,
The Doobie Brothers,
Unrelated Segments,
Kas Product,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Stockholm Monsters,
Tubeway Army,
Ultravox,
Mandrill,
The Flesh Eaters,
Maleditus Sound,
Lakeside,
Can,
The Victims,
Wally Richardson,
Q65,
Ralphi Rosario,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
David Bowie,
Bronski Beat,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Henry Cow, Henry Cow, Henry Cow, Henry Cow.
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.