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 Suriname and from Lille.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 Rotary Connection to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Radio Birdman. All the underground hits.
All One Last Wish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The American Breed record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Barracudas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Curtis Mayfield,
the Human League,
The Count Five,
EPMD,
Alton Ellis,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Vainqueur,
The Dead C,
Infiniti,
Sun Ra,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Detroit Cobras,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Minnie Riperton,
Underground Resistance,
the Normal,
Nation of Ulysses,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Associates,
Y Pants,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Bill Near,
Minutemen,
Chrome,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Subhumans,
Tommy Roe,
Unrelated Segments,
The Index,
David McCallum,
The Kinks,
Yaz,
The Mummies,
Patti Smith,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
E-Dancer,
Lee Hazlewood,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Agent Orange,
Pere Ubu,
Donald Byrd,
The Grass Roots,
Little Man,
James White and The Blacks,
The Skatalites,
Charles Mingus,
The Angels of Light,
Mo-Dettes,
Sonic Youth,
Gabor Szabo,
Rapeman,
Yusef Lateef,
Anakelly,
New Age Steppers,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Remains,
D'Angelo,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Sonny Sharrock,
Ultimate Spinach,
Black Sheep,
Amon Düül II,
Moss Icon,
Niagra, Niagra, Niagra, Niagra.
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.