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 Antigua and from Portland.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 marimba 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 Desert Stars to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Pagans. All the underground hits.
All De La Soul & Jungle Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobbi Humphrey 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Techniques,
Frankie Knuckles,
Au Pairs,
UT,
The Smiths,
Tomorrow,
Country Teasers,
Jimmy McGriff,
Marcia Griffiths,
Lebanon Hanover,
Funkadelic,
Brick,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Knickerbockers,
Kerri Chandler,
Adolescents,
Anthony Braxton,
Television,
Gerry Rafferty,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Black Bananas,
Nils Olav,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Index,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
10cc,
Aural Exciters,
CMW,
Junior Murvin,
Fluxion,
Gabor Szabo,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Robert Hood,
Vladislav Delay,
Yazoo,
Sex Pistols,
Lakeside,
Dawn Penn,
Hoover,
Bluetip,
Donald Byrd,
Pulsallama,
Suburban Knight,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Tears for Fears,
Don Cherry,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Pantytec,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Arcadia,
Deakin,
Mandrill,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Misunderstood,
Bill Near,
The Mummies,
Delta 5,
Jerry Gold Smith,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Crime, Crime, Crime, Crime.
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.