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 Lebanon and from Bremen.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 The Smoke to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Rahsaan Roland Kirk. All the underground hits.
All Charles Mingus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ronnie Foster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gladiators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Donny Hathaway,
Nas,
Absolute Body Control,
Aural Exciters,
Popol Vuh,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Scientists,
Slave,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Fugs,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Aswad,
Cybotron,
Maleditus Sound,
Susan Cadogan,
ABC,
The Dirtbombs,
Duran Duran,
Amon Düül,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Sex Pistols,
The Durutti Column,
The Dave Clark Five,
Tubeway Army,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Monks,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Real Kids,
Johnny Clarke,
Idris Muhammad,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Pet Shop Boys,
H. Thieme,
Con Funk Shun,
a-ha,
Pharoah Sanders,
MC5,
Man Eating Sloth,
Charles Mingus,
Interpol,
Eli Mardock,
Deepchord,
The Red Krayola,
Janne Schatter,
Graham Central Station,
The Smoke,
Erykah Badu,
Bizarre Inc.,
the Soft Cell,
The Young Rascals,
James White and The Blacks,
UT,
Hot Snakes,
Delta 5,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Crooked Eye,
Pantaleimon,
Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish.
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.