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 Saudi Arabia and from Lagos.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Happenings to the dance 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 Eurythmics. All the underground hits.
All The Star Department tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Vogues record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes 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,
Bluetip,
Kas Product,
Idris Muhammad,
Charles Mingus,
Eden Ahbez,
Darondo,
Aswad,
Newcleus,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Dead C,
Scion,
Pierre Henry,
Marshall Jefferson,
Delta 5,
Blancmange,
Motorama,
The Evens,
Little Man,
Deadbeat,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Oblivians,
Bad Manners,
Tres Demented,
Mission of Burma,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Q and Not U,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Mummies,
Ornette Coleman,
Kevin Saunderson,
Drive Like Jehu,
Alphaville,
Anthony Braxton,
Robert Wyatt,
Boz Scaggs,
The Techniques,
Barry Ungar,
New Age Steppers,
Ituana,
Crime,
Liliput,
Animal Collective,
The Monks,
B.T. Express,
Crash Course in Science,
Yellowson,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Young Rascals,
Drexciya,
Pole,
Ponytail,
The Real Kids,
Dual Sessions,
The Kinks,
Rites of Spring,
The Barracudas,
Traffic Nightmare,
Excepter,
Brand Nubian,
Trumans Water,
Scientists,
Pagans, Pagans, Pagans, Pagans.
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.