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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Houston.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Brothers Johnson to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Jesper Dahlbäck. All the underground hits.
All Audionom tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Erykah Badu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 rhodes and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nation of Ulysses record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Leaves,
The J.B.'s,
The Cramps,
Talk Talk,
Faraquet,
Royal Trux,
The Gap Band,
Sällskapet,
Ten City,
Sex Pistols,
Blake Baxter,
Deakin,
Moby Grape,
The Zeros,
Minutemen,
Kaleidoscope,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The New Christs,
Marc Almond,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Jacques Brel,
Tommy Roe,
Juan Atkins,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Dark Day,
The Trojans,
Swans,
The United States of America,
Patti Smith,
Animal Collective,
Lucky Dragons,
The Walker Brothers,
The Happenings,
Yellowson,
The Star Department,
New Age Steppers,
Mo-Dettes,
Prince Buster,
Piero Umiliani,
Eddi Front,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Human League,
Brothers Johnson,
Sam Rivers,
Theoretical Girls,
Das Ding,
Johnny Osbourne,
Rosa Yemen,
Gabor Szabo,
Camberwell Now,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Banda Bassotti,
Eli Mardock,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
F. McDonald,
Sarah Menescal,
Jacob Miller,
Youth Brigade,
Monks, Monks, Monks, Monks.
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.