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 Nigeria and from Bologna.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 marimba 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 Raincoats to the techno 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 Letta Mbulu. All the underground hits.
All Angels of Light & Akron/Family tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oppenheimer Analysis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Arab on Radar record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cure,
The Modern Lovers,
Gang Green,
Black Sheep,
Harpers Bizarre,
Robert Görl,
Eurythmics,
Masters at Work,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Associates,
Lalo Schifrin,
Neu!,
The Shadows of Knight,
Gang of Four,
Anakelly,
The Flesh Eaters,
Sound Behaviour,
Magazine,
Soft Cell,
Deadbeat,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Litter,
A Flock of Seagulls,
World's Most,
X-102,
Janne Schatter,
Motorama,
the Slits,
Sarah Menescal,
Pierre Henry,
Harry Pussy,
Yellowson,
Minnie Riperton,
Sex Pistols,
Los Fastidios,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Slackers,
Minor Threat,
Chris Corsano,
Kevin Saunderson,
Reagan Youth,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Quando Quango,
Rakim,
Kerri Chandler,
Essential Logic,
Johnny Clarke,
Sandy B,
The Durutti Column,
Magma,
Amon Düül,
Camberwell Now,
Radio Birdman,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
FM Einheit,
Eli Mardock,
Cybotron,
Eden Ahbez,
Isaac Hayes,
Quantec,
A Certain Ratio,
L. Decosne, L. Decosne, L. Decosne, L. Decosne.
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.