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 Ireland and from Philadelphia.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 David McCallum to the funk 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 Man Eating Sloth. All the underground hits.
All Echo & the Bunnymen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every kango's stein massive 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 sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Copeland record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gabor Szabo,
The Last Poets,
Quantec,
48th St. Collective,
The Beau Brummels,
Kool Moe Dee,
Icehouse,
Liliput,
June Days,
Roy Ayers,
The Buckinghams,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Reuben Wilson,
X-Ray Spex,
London Community Gospel Choir,
In Retrospect,
cv313,
Parry Music,
Pole,
UT,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
a-ha,
Howard Jones,
Maurizio,
Eric Copeland,
The Slackers,
Masters at Work,
Marmalade,
Rod Modell,
Cameo,
Yazoo,
The Human League,
The Moleskins,
Shoche,
Organ,
Tres Demented,
Neu!,
The Dave Clark Five,
John Cale,
The Smiths,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Wasted Youth,
Pylon,
Surgeon,
Zero Boys,
Curtis Mayfield,
Crooked Eye,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Spandau Ballet,
The Blackbyrds,
Funky Four + One,
K-Klass,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Max Romeo,
The Dead C,
Frankie Knuckles,
Lindisfarne,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Marshall Jefferson,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur.
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.