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 Nepal and from Edmonton.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Columbus.
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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Crooked Eye to the disco 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 Wasted Youth. All the underground hits.
All Marvin Gaye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sex Pistols 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 48th St. Collective record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Traffic Nightmare,
Carl Craig,
Erasure,
The Last Poets,
Tomorrow,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Rod Modell,
Schoolly D,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Albert Ayler,
Judy Mowatt,
Iggy Pop,
Barrington Levy,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Jawbox,
Goldenarms,
Guru Guru,
John Foxx,
Bush Tetras,
Brothers Johnson,
Essential Logic,
The Remains,
Con Funk Shun,
Joey Negro,
Popol Vuh,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Wolf Eyes,
Flash Fearless,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Tommy Roe,
The Barracudas,
Little Man,
Buzzcocks,
Tropical Tobacco,
Kerrie Biddell,
Malaria!,
The Blackbyrds,
Donny Hathaway,
The Angels of Light,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Oblivians,
Hasil Adkins,
The Selecter,
Ultra Naté,
Amon Düül,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Section 25,
The Victims,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Niagra,
The Real Kids,
Fluxion,
The Shadows of Knight,
Bob Dylan,
Scientists,
Bootsy Collins,
Altered Images,
Zero Boys,
Index,
Pylon, Pylon, Pylon, Pylon.
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.