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 Czech Republic and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 X-101 to the grunge 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 Wasted Youth. All the underground hits.
All Outsiders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nik Kershaw record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Womack record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Absolute Body Control,
Anthony Braxton,
T. Rex,
Subhumans,
The Star Department,
Sexual Harrassment,
Scott Walker,
Dorothy Ashby,
Albert Ayler,
Terry Callier,
Glambeats Corp.,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Whodini,
Unrelated Segments,
Interpol,
the Fania All-Stars,
Kerrie Biddell,
Public Enemy,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Eric Dolphy,
Cluster,
Supertramp,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Graham Central Station,
Camouflage,
Moby Grape,
James White and The Blacks,
The Pop Group,
John Cale,
Severed Heads,
Skaos,
Drive Like Jehu,
Kenny Larkin,
Mo-Dettes,
Icehouse,
The Slackers,
Animal Collective,
Fad Gadget,
Groovy Waters,
Nirvana,
Black Pus,
Accadde A,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Quadrant,
David McCallum,
The Trojans,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Circle Jerks,
The Dirtbombs,
Colin Newman,
The Neon Judgement,
MDC,
Dave Gahan,
Joy Division,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Procol Harum,
Nico,
The Last Poets, The Last Poets, The Last Poets, The Last Poets.
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.