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 Zimbabwe and from New York.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Jesper Dahlback 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 The Fugs. All the underground hits.
All Jimmy McGriff tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Warsaw 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stetsasonic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
the Soft Cell,
The Modern Lovers,
Erykah Badu,
Bronski Beat,
T. Rex,
Pole,
Monks,
Todd Rundgren,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Offenders,
Urselle,
The Litter,
MDC,
Fear,
The Knickerbockers,
EPMD,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Bauhaus,
Quando Quango,
Section 25,
The New Christs,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Bobby Byrd,
Icehouse,
Suburban Knight,
The Wake,
MC5,
Skriet,
The Cramps,
The Human League,
Television Personalities,
Robert Wyatt,
Anthony Braxton,
Ronan,
Rotary Connection,
Blossom Toes,
Matthew Halsall,
Nico,
Schoolly D,
Saccharine Trust,
Cluster,
Pussy Galore,
Gichy Dan,
Gregory Isaacs,
Surgeon,
Eden Ahbez,
Barrington Levy,
Organ,
Bill Near,
Lucky Dragons,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Barclay James Harvest,
Jeru the Damaja,
T.S.O.L.,
John Coltrane,
Freddie Wadling,
D'Angelo,
Gang Starr,
Anakelly, Anakelly, Anakelly, Anakelly.
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.