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 Togo and from New York.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the organ 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 The Wake to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Little Man. All the underground hits.
All Strawberry Alarm Clock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every De La Soul & Jungle Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Prince Buster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Eating Sloth,
Ossler,
the Human League,
The Cure,
Faraquet,
Funky Four + One,
The Busters,
Nas,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Scientists,
Bill Wells,
John Lydon,
Drive Like Jehu,
Adolescents,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Quando Quango,
Juan Atkins,
Marcia Griffiths,
Desert Stars,
The Blackbyrds,
The Searchers,
The Buckinghams,
Cal Tjader,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Khruangbin,
Pharoah Sanders,
X-102,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Kool Moe Dee,
Rhythm & Sound,
U.S. Maple,
Ronnie Foster,
The Black Dice,
Morten Harket,
Bang On A Can,
Rotary Connection,
The Five Americans,
Camouflage,
Avey Tare,
Freddie Wadling,
The Fire Engines,
Fat Boys,
Mars,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
John Holt,
Fugazi,
Kaleidoscope,
Peter & Gordon,
Hardrive,
Duran Duran,
Ultravox,
Hashim,
Outsiders,
Black Bananas,
The New Christs,
Rufus Thomas,
One Last Wish,
Camberwell Now,
Lou Reed & Metallica, Lou Reed & Metallica, Lou Reed & Metallica, Lou Reed & Metallica.
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.