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 Maldives and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Scientists to the grime 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 Excepter. All the underground hits.
All Gabor Szabo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Liliput record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Saints record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Alarm Clocks,
Aural Exciters,
CMW,
Roy Ayers,
Ten City,
June Days,
Gichy Dan,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Roxy Music,
Index,
Yazoo,
Little Man,
Kevin Saunderson,
Symarip,
Juan Atkins,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Move,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Camberwell Now,
A Certain Ratio,
Qualms,
Maurizio,
Prince Buster,
Connie Case,
Japan,
U.S. Maple,
Roxette,
Depeche Mode,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Janne Schatter,
Livin' Joy,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Cure,
New York Dolls,
Clear Light,
Grauzone,
Intrusion,
The Fuzztones,
Fela Kuti,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Pagans,
Second Layer,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Mission of Burma,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Zapp,
Wolf Eyes,
Section 25,
Brick,
Minutemen,
Sister Nancy,
The Residents,
Barbara Tucker,
Donny Hathaway,
Black Moon,
Isaac Hayes,
Aaron Thompson,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Minnie Riperton,
Ponytail,
Masters at Work,
The Shadows of Knight,
Fluxion,
Main Source,
Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren.
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.