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 Tanzania and from Woodstock.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 rhodes 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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Slave. All the underground hits.
All Main Source tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lindisfarne 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pantaleimon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Icehouse,
Radio Birdman,
the Normal,
Ralphi Rosario,
Scott Walker,
Michelle Simonal,
Marcia Griffiths,
Tommy Roe,
Colin Newman,
Masters at Work,
China Crisis,
Ice-T,
Scratch Acid,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Make Up,
Ronnie Foster,
Swans,
Tropical Tobacco,
New Age Steppers,
The Count Five,
Ossler,
Sam Rivers,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Con Funk Shun,
Sexual Harrassment,
Youth Brigade,
Joe Finger,
Bobby Byrd,
Sun City Girls,
Inner City,
Erasure,
Kerrie Biddell,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Bush Tetras,
The Tremeloes,
Easy Going,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Monks,
Malaria!,
John Coltrane,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
June of 44,
Al Stewart,
the Soft Cell,
The Shadows of Knight,
Radiopuhelimet,
Sex Pistols,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
D'Angelo,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Davy DMX,
Siglo XX,
Tears for Fears,
Dark Day,
Panda Bear,
Ultimate Spinach,
Liliput,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Animal Collective,
Angry Samoans,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
X-Ray Spex,
The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible.
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.