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 Korea South and from Winnipeg.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
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 Television to the crunk 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 The Human League. All the underground hits.
All Banda Bassotti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispian St. Peters 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terror Squad Feat. Camron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bizarre Inc.,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
David McCallum,
Blancmange,
Traffic Nightmare,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Skaos,
David Axelrod,
a-ha,
Kerri Chandler,
Sugar Minott,
B.T. Express,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Sound,
Jesper Dahlback,
Mission of Burma,
Josef K,
Bobby Womack,
Idris Muhammad,
Excepter,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Hardrive,
Connie Case,
Rod Modell,
Swans,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Heaven 17,
The Vogues,
Mandrill,
Faraquet,
Theoretical Girls,
Brass Construction,
Index,
Slave,
Sun City Girls,
The Fortunes,
New York Dolls,
Technova,
Audionom,
the Slits,
Television Personalities,
Lower 48,
Massinfluence,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Invisible,
The Five Americans,
The Fuzztones,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Move,
Trumans Water,
The Pretty Things,
Minutemen,
Roxette,
Niagra,
The Real Kids,
Eli Mardock,
Faust,
The Dead C,
John Holt,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Moss Icon,
Buzzcocks,
Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson.
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.