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 Nicaragua and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 synthesizer 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 10cc to the funk 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 The Flesh Eaters. All the underground hits.
All Underground Resistance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gerry Rafferty 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moby Grape record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Monks,
D'Angelo,
Hot Snakes,
Boogie Down Productions,
Niagra,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Slackers,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Frankie Knuckles,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Lower 48,
L. Decosne,
Brass Construction,
Gastr Del Sol,
AZ,
Bang On A Can,
Bootsy Collins,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Harpers Bizarre,
Barry Ungar,
Cybotron,
Toni Rubio,
MC5,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
David Bowie,
MDC,
Black Sheep,
The Durutti Column,
The Sonics,
Jeru the Damaja,
June Days,
the Slits,
Jeff Mills,
DJ Style,
kango's stein massive,
Clear Light,
The Trojans,
Schoolly D,
The Misunderstood,
The Sound,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Derrick May,
Qualms,
the Normal,
The Motions,
Radiohead,
The Five Americans,
Bauhaus,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Whodini,
Duran Duran,
Sun City Girls,
Chrome,
Bobby Sherman,
Crispian St. Peters,
X-101,
Public Image Ltd.,
Magazine,
Reagan Youth,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Patti Smith,
Jesper Dahlback,
Wings, Wings, Wings, Wings.
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.