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 Sierra Leone and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Lyon.
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 spring reverb 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 David McCallum to the dance 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 Siglo XX. All the underground hits.
All The Sonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Donald Byrd record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 48th St. Collective record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
JFA,
Wire,
The Music Machine,
Sonic Youth,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Blues Magoos,
Alice Coltrane,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Lakeside,
The Motions,
Aloha Tigers,
The Buckinghams,
Desert Stars,
Curtis Mayfield,
John Holt,
Pharoah Sanders,
Youth Brigade,
The Monks,
Black Bananas,
Tomorrow,
Bronski Beat,
Sexual Harrassment,
Erasure,
The Searchers,
Buzzcocks,
Gerry Rafferty,
Bill Near,
Cheater Slicks,
Bad Manners,
Bush Tetras,
ABC,
Stockholm Monsters,
Sun City Girls,
Barry Ungar,
Bang On A Can,
Toni Rubio,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Modern Lovers,
Symarip,
The Saints,
Ken Boothe,
Rosa Yemen,
The American Breed,
Al Stewart,
Todd Terry,
The Dead C,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Roy Ayers,
Pussy Galore,
Jandek,
These Immortal Souls,
Pantytec,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Amon Düül,
The Moleskins,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Smiths,
Con Funk Shun,
Lalo Schifrin,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop.
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.