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 Laos and from Spokane.
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 Seoul and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 chamberlin 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 Jeff Lynne to the grime 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 Sixth Finger. All the underground hits.
All Talk Talk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gories 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Black Dice record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jawbox,
The Searchers,
Faust,
Gerry Rafferty,
Funkadelic,
Al Stewart,
F. McDonald,
Los Fastidios,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Television Personalities,
New York Dolls,
Outsiders,
Malaria!,
The Residents,
Graham Central Station,
Bill Wells,
These Immortal Souls,
Matthew Halsall,
Peter and Kerry,
Tim Buckley,
Dorothy Ashby,
Gastr Del Sol,
kango's stein massive,
Liliput,
Minutemen,
Grauzone,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Parry Music,
The Wake,
Max Romeo,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Pierre Henry,
Alison Limerick,
John Coltrane,
Ten City,
Quantec,
Con Funk Shun,
Mr. Review,
Pussy Galore,
The Kinks,
Rapeman,
EPMD,
KRS-One,
Procol Harum,
Agitation Free,
Roxy Music,
Monolake,
Khruangbin,
Deakin,
Thee Headcoats,
Nick Fraelich,
LL Cool J,
Harry Pussy,
Monks,
The Monks,
Absolute Body Control,
The Evens,
Wire,
Nirvana,
Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne.
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.