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 Belarus and from Lagos.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
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 James White and The Blacks to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Skarface. All the underground hits.
All Connie Case tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang on a Can All-Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 a theremin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Matthew Halsall record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rapeman,
These Immortal Souls,
Lou Reed,
Wally Richardson,
One Last Wish,
Joey Negro,
Rekid,
Prince Buster,
The Slits,
Lucky Dragons,
Circle Jerks,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Albert Ayler,
The Litter,
Brick,
Outsiders,
Clear Light,
Juan Atkins,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Kenny Larkin,
Mandrill,
The Birthday Party,
The Stooges,
Al Stewart,
Stiv Bators,
The New Christs,
Soft Machine,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Dave Gahan,
Morten Harket,
Nils Olav,
LL Cool J,
Toni Rubio,
Barry Ungar,
John Cale,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Fat Boys,
Ice-T,
The Seeds,
Cheater Slicks,
John Lydon,
The Grass Roots,
World's Most,
F. McDonald,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Gong,
The Durutti Column,
Donald Byrd,
The Red Krayola,
Khruangbin,
Ten City,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Moody Blues,
Kerrie Biddell,
Suicide,
Boogie Down Productions,
Sun City Girls,
Terrestrial Tones,
Royal Trux,
Magazine,
Wings, Wings, Wings, Wings.
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.