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 Gabon and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 marimba 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 Major Organ And The Adding Machine to the techno 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 Gang Gang Dance. All the underground hits.
All Siglo XX tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Red Krayola record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thompson Twins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bootsy Collins,
David Axelrod,
Barbara Tucker,
Reagan Youth,
The Pretty Things,
Laurel Aitken,
The Saints,
Danielle Patucci,
Blake Baxter,
Bobby Byrd,
Max Romeo,
Swans,
Unwound,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Amon Düül II,
Alison Limerick,
Alice Coltrane,
Heaven 17,
Q and Not U,
The Durutti Column,
Rotary Connection,
X-Ray Spex,
Brass Construction,
The Buckinghams,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Country Teasers,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Roger Hodgson,
Soft Cell,
Visage,
Leonard Cohen,
Lightning Bolt,
Bad Manners,
Grandmaster Flash,
Moby Grape,
Bill Wells,
The Smiths,
The Black Dice,
The Trojans,
The Sisters of Mercy,
A Flock of Seagulls,
June Days,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
ABC,
Dawn Penn,
Tubeway Army,
Sun Ra,
Sällskapet,
La Düsseldorf,
Skarface,
Pantytec,
Ken Boothe,
Pagans,
Make Up,
Ohio Players,
The Gap Band,
June of 44,
K-Klass,
David McCallum,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Brothers Johnson,
Gabor Szabo,
Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes.
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.