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 Chad and from Lyon.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 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 Lonnie Liston Smith to the funk 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 Electric Light Orchestra. All the underground hits.
All The Knickerbockers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fugs 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Knickerbockers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Underground Resistance,
Youth Brigade,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Brand Nubian,
Fela Kuti,
Kevin Saunderson,
Unwound,
The Victims,
New Age Steppers,
Sällskapet,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Al Stewart,
Black Bananas,
K-Klass,
Eurythmics,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Skriet,
Mad Mike,
Echospace,
Ultimate Spinach,
Mark Hollis,
Procol Harum,
James Chance & The Contortions,
This Heat,
The Wake,
FM Einheit,
Second Layer,
Malaria!,
Thee Headcoats,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
DJ Sneak,
Crooked Eye,
Max Romeo,
Scientists,
The Fall,
Tim Buckley,
Lou Christie,
Man Parrish,
Yellowson,
Slave,
Jandek,
The Pop Group,
Magma,
Supertramp,
The Mummies,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Fire Engines,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Bad Manners,
Mandrill,
L. Decosne,
the Fania All-Stars,
Can,
The Offenders,
Tomorrow,
Black Moon,
David Bowie,
Depeche Mode,
The Angels of Light,
Nik Kershaw,
The Shadows of Knight,
Infiniti,
Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon.
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.