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 Mauritania and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Soft Cell to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Jeff Lynne. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alison Limerick record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wally Richardson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hashim,
H. Thieme,
Eric Copeland,
The United States of America,
Soft Cell,
Nirvana,
Talk Talk,
Can,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Birthday Party,
New York Dolls,
Whodini,
Piero Umiliani,
Nas,
DNA,
The Gap Band,
Wire,
X-Ray Spex,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Trojans,
The Leaves,
Camouflage,
Susan Cadogan,
Schoolly D,
Gregory Isaacs,
Kayak,
Eric B and Rakim,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Mummies,
Fat Boys,
Monolake,
Eve St. Jones,
The Star Department,
Joe Finger,
The Red Krayola,
John Coltrane,
The Residents,
Essential Logic,
Eric Dolphy,
The Standells,
Alison Limerick,
Blancmange,
Subhumans,
Average White Band,
Lee Hazlewood,
Albert Ayler,
Bob Dylan,
The Victims,
The J.B.'s,
Faraquet,
The Monks,
Skaos,
Joyce Sims,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Seeds,
The Evens,
Slave,
Rod Modell,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
JFA,
Andrew Hill,
Y Pants,
Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras.
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.