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 Bahrain and from Bologna.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Little Man to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog. All the underground hits.
All Kings Of Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Reuben Wilson 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 rhodes and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Fania All-Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barbara Tucker,
Erykah Badu,
Can,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Fugs,
The Blackbyrds,
The Sound,
Black Sheep,
The Smoke,
AZ,
Joy Division,
T.S.O.L.,
New Order,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Malaria!,
Bronski Beat,
Masters at Work,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Ice-T,
Sandy B,
Electric Light Orchestra,
John Coltrane,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Parry Music,
The Cowsills,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
cv313,
Wolf Eyes,
The Walker Brothers,
The Busters,
The Moleskins,
Josef K,
The Birthday Party,
Ultravox,
Ohio Players,
Moebius,
48th St. Collective,
Visage,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Circle Jerks,
Ludus,
Judy Mowatt,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Jandek,
Hoover,
DJ Sneak,
Amon Düül,
Pet Shop Boys,
La Düsseldorf,
Tears for Fears,
Tommy Roe,
The Monks,
Quantec,
the Soft Cell,
Warren Ellis,
Vladislav Delay,
Donny Hathaway,
Drive Like Jehu,
Young Marble Giants,
Cal Tjader,
The Doors,
Interpol, Interpol, Interpol, Interpol.
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.