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 Papua New Guinea and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the linndrum 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 James White and The Blacks to the jazz 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 The Seeds. All the underground hits.
All Brass Construction tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Echospace 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Smog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fugazi,
Stockholm Monsters,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Unwound,
Hot Snakes,
Fluxion,
Ice-T,
The Divine Comedy,
Absolute Body Control,
The Doors,
Harpers Bizarre,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Cowsills,
the Association,
Roy Ayers,
Terry Callier,
The Blackbyrds,
Pharoah Sanders,
Pierre Henry,
The Index,
Piero Umiliani,
Joe Finger,
The Neon Judgement,
Connie Case,
Black Bananas,
James White and The Blacks,
PIL,
Blancmange,
T. Rex,
The Slits,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Young Marble Giants,
Alison Limerick,
The Velvet Underground,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Electric Prunes,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Durutti Column,
Simply Red,
The Gladiators,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
X-102,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Nils Olav,
Tears for Fears,
Dennis Brown,
Gregory Isaacs,
David Bowie,
Derrick May,
Main Source,
The Modern Lovers,
Monks,
Lower 48,
Smog,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Standells,
Joey Negro,
Henry Cow,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Technova,
Loose Ends,
Barbara Tucker,
Marvin Gaye, Marvin Gaye, Marvin Gaye, Marvin Gaye.
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.