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 Tajikistan and from Johannesburg.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Ornette Coleman to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Shadows of Knight. All the underground hits.
All Davy DMX tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Saccharine Trust 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a E-Dancer record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang of Four,
T. Rex,
The Martian,
Joensuu 1685,
Eric B and Rakim,
Roy Ayers,
Spoonie Gee,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Busters,
Fort Wilson Riot,
ABC,
Mark Hollis,
The Slackers,
Reagan Youth,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Freddie Wadling,
Parry Music,
Visage,
F. McDonald,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Fugazi,
Spandau Ballet,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Kinks,
Supertramp,
The Pop Group,
Gastr Del Sol,
Colin Newman,
Eden Ahbez,
The J.B.'s,
The Mummies,
The Beau Brummels,
Kerri Chandler,
The Monochrome Set,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Technova,
Rapeman,
Maleditus Sound,
Fatback Band,
Mad Mike,
Qualms,
Skriet,
Eric Copeland,
Deadbeat,
The Moleskins,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Slick Rick,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Real Kids,
Audionom,
Gil Scott Heron,
Sixth Finger,
Hashim,
John Holt,
Andrew Hill,
Grey Daturas,
MDC,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
These Immortal Souls,
Goldenarms,
Rakim,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Scion, Scion, Scion, Scion.
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.