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 Paraguay and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Fatback Band to the punk 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 Gary Puckett & The Union Gap. All the underground hits.
All Nils Olav tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Malaria! record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang 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?
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Howard Jones,
The Moleskins,
Rod Modell,
The Leaves,
F. McDonald,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Masters at Work,
A Certain Ratio,
John Foxx,
Roy Ayers,
Ralphi Rosario,
Gerry Rafferty,
Kayak,
Inner City,
Main Source,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Basic Channel,
Urselle,
Johnny Osbourne,
Make Up,
Yazoo,
Godley & Creme,
Fat Boys,
Technova,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Agent Orange,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Throbbing Gristle,
ABBA,
D'Angelo,
The Music Machine,
DJ Sneak,
Rakim,
Delta 5,
Chrome,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
MC5,
Ornette Coleman,
CMW,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Fela Kuti,
Pulsallama,
Trumans Water,
Roxy Music,
Wings,
Motorama,
Ash Ra Tempel,
John Coltrane,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Moody Blues,
Public Image Ltd.,
In Retrospect,
Gil Scott Heron,
Dawn Penn,
Stiv Bators,
Sun City Girls,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Eurythmics,
Bill Near,
T.S.O.L.,
The Gap Band, The Gap Band, The Gap Band, The Gap Band.
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.