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 Zambia and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 Kurtis Blow to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Rahsaan Roland Kirk. All the underground hits.
All Morten Harket tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Big Daddy Kane,
Neil Young,
Juan Atkins,
Smog,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Move,
Traffic Nightmare,
Symarip,
Motorama,
The Gladiators,
Bluetip,
Stereo Dub,
The Golliwogs,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Skatalites,
Urselle,
Ultimate Spinach,
Ituana,
Dave Gahan,
Guru Guru,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Pretty Things,
Alice Coltrane,
Shoche,
Aswad,
Pantytec,
Funky Four + One,
Wally Richardson,
Sun Ra,
Sound Behaviour,
Delta 5,
Ronan,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Stiv Bators,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Anakelly,
Johnny Clarke,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Tom Boy,
Piero Umiliani,
Au Pairs,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Cowsills,
Dual Sessions,
Adolescents,
Stetsasonic,
Laurel Aitken,
Country Joe & The Fish,
DJ Sneak,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Wake,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Black Flag,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Happenings,
Kas Product,
Excepter,
the Normal,
The Angels of Light,
In Retrospect,
The American Breed,
The Smiths,
Alton Ellis,
World's Most, World's Most, World's Most, World's Most.
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.