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 Venezuela and from London.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Fela Kuti to the jazz 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 Rakim. All the underground hits.
All Eli Mardock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Loose Ends record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Misunderstood,
Guru Guru,
Tim Buckley,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Buckinghams,
Black Moon,
Jimmy McGriff,
Mo-Dettes,
Hardrive,
Boz Scaggs,
Marine Girls,
Ultimate Spinach,
Anakelly,
Gong,
Circle Jerks,
Blake Baxter,
Jeff Mills,
Junior Murvin,
The Electric Prunes,
The Skatalites,
Agitation Free,
Frankie Knuckles,
James White and The Blacks,
Funkadelic,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Music Machine,
Symarip,
The Names,
DJ Sneak,
The Martian,
Pagans,
8 Eyed Spy,
Rakim,
Aaron Thompson,
Henry Cow,
The Mummies,
Donny Hathaway,
Crime,
Mantronix,
The Happenings,
Parry Music,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Searchers,
ABBA,
Eve St. Jones,
Eden Ahbez,
The Moleskins,
June of 44,
Rod Modell,
Donald Byrd,
Simply Red,
Fluxion,
Barry Ungar,
The Five Americans,
Warsaw,
Terrestrial Tones,
Gang Gang Dance,
Fear,
Reagan Youth,
Subhumans,
Alphaville,
Nik Kershaw,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks.
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.