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 Samoa and from Taipei.
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 Woodstock and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Mission of Burma to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Underground Resistance. All the underground hits.
All Public Image Ltd. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Almond record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aloha Tigers,
The Cowsills,
Terrestrial Tones,
Marmalade,
The Sonics,
Altered Images,
The Mummies,
The Doobie Brothers,
Swell Maps,
Pere Ubu,
the Human League,
Wasted Youth,
the Normal,
Basic Channel,
Crash Course in Science,
Metal Thangz,
Alison Limerick,
JFA,
Camouflage,
Brass Construction,
Max Romeo,
Black Sheep,
Lou Reed,
Radio Birdman,
China Crisis,
Cluster,
Iggy Pop,
The Remains,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Inner City,
Nas,
The Last Poets,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Neu!,
Lucky Dragons,
Pet Shop Boys,
Mo-Dettes,
The Fuzztones,
Scion,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Flash Fearless,
Graham Central Station,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Eli Mardock,
The J.B.'s,
Nirvana,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Amazonics,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Skatalites,
Joe Smooth,
The Litter,
Harry Pussy,
Eric Dolphy,
Joy Division,
Thompson Twins,
Lungfish,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Moody Blues,
New Age Steppers, New Age Steppers, New Age Steppers, New Age Steppers.
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.