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 Afghanistan and from Sao Paulo.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the güiro 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Henry Cow. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young & Crazy Horse tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gladiators record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Count Five,
Rakim,
Minny Pops,
The Moody Blues,
ABBA,
Erykah Badu,
Mandrill,
Gang of Four,
Symarip,
The Doors,
New Order,
The Dirtbombs,
Arab on Radar,
Drexciya,
Pet Shop Boys,
The United States of America,
Terrestrial Tones,
Metal Thangz,
Peter & Gordon,
Amazonics,
Supertramp,
T. Rex,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Evens,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Tim Buckley,
PIL,
Radiohead,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Eden Ahbez,
Lungfish,
Model 500,
The Sonics,
Agitation Free,
The Doobie Brothers,
LL Cool J,
Alice Coltrane,
The Black Dice,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Dawn Penn,
The Music Machine,
Harry Pussy,
Goldenarms,
Tommy Roe,
Sister Nancy,
Gabor Szabo,
Swans,
Yusef Lateef,
Icehouse,
Carl Craig,
Faust,
Arcadia,
David Axelrod,
Pantaleimon,
Outsiders,
Tropical Tobacco,
Ronan,
Deakin,
Negative Approach,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Rufus Thomas,
Scientists,
Underground Resistance, Underground Resistance, Underground Resistance, Underground Resistance.
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.