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 Slovakia and from Spokane.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Minutemen to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Porter Ricks. All the underground hits.
All Fugazi tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Moebius 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DNA,
Moebius,
Don Cherry,
Traffic Nightmare,
Con Funk Shun,
The Real Kids,
Nick Fraelich,
Warsaw,
Steve Hackett,
Toni Rubio,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Music Machine,
Byron Stingily,
Ralphi Rosario,
The United States of America,
The Neon Judgement,
Ohio Players,
The Litter,
Pussy Galore,
Depeche Mode,
Marshall Jefferson,
Young Marble Giants,
Leonard Cohen,
Ken Boothe,
Sarah Menescal,
Big Daddy Kane,
Gil Scott Heron,
Aural Exciters,
Absolute Body Control,
Janne Schatter,
Blancmange,
The Wake,
U.S. Maple,
Gang Starr,
Surgeon,
Banda Bassotti,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Scratch Acid,
The Divine Comedy,
Anakelly,
Minnie Riperton,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Sugar Minott,
Lyres,
Gang of Four,
Susan Cadogan,
Gerry Rafferty,
Lindisfarne,
Johnny Clarke,
Funkadelic,
the Association,
T.S.O.L.,
the Germs,
Bobby Sherman,
Camouflage,
The Fall,
Kas Product,
Barrington Levy,
Scan 7,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Minor Threat,
Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish.
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.