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 Cambodia and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 arpeggiator 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 Roy Ayers Ubiquity to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Jimmy McGriff. All the underground hits.
All Severed Heads tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Traffic Nightmare record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 theremin and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aswad,
Neil Young,
Hot Snakes,
The Birthday Party,
Rufus Thomas,
Aaron Thompson,
The Durutti Column,
The Doobie Brothers,
Girls At Our Best!,
Matthew Halsall,
Bluetip,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Motions,
Al Stewart,
the Germs,
Loose Ends,
Fela Kuti,
Suicide,
Todd Terry,
cv313,
Kenny Larkin,
Blancmange,
Drexciya,
Nico,
Max Romeo,
a-ha,
China Crisis,
Marmalade,
Eddi Front,
Symarip,
Ronnie Foster,
Juan Atkins,
Silicon Teens,
Niagra,
8 Eyed Spy,
Byron Stingily,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Mission of Burma,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Rites of Spring,
The Modern Lovers,
Y Pants,
The Trojans,
Swans,
Jawbox,
The Golliwogs,
Curtis Mayfield,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Red Krayola,
Porter Ricks,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Stiv Bators,
Camouflage,
Eli Mardock,
Wally Richardson,
Henry Cow,
Cal Tjader,
Quadrant,
Zapp,
Quando Quango,
Ken Boothe,
Second Layer, Second Layer, Second Layer, Second Layer.
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.