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 Zambia and from Tehran.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Erykah Badu to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Morten Harket. All the underground hits.
All Sad Lovers and Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Smog 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Alarm Clocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Morten Harket,
Judy Mowatt,
Make Up,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Divine Comedy,
Robert Hood,
Tres Demented,
Man Eating Sloth,
Michelle Simonal,
Gong,
Jeff Lynne,
Rufus Thomas,
Dawn Penn,
Tim Buckley,
Isaac Hayes,
Jacob Miller,
Saccharine Trust,
Black Pus,
Interpol,
John Coltrane,
Camberwell Now,
Colin Newman,
Hot Snakes,
Wally Richardson,
Desert Stars,
Rod Modell,
Wolf Eyes,
Mandrill,
Camouflage,
the Sonics,
Unrelated Segments,
Derrick Morgan,
Bobby Sherman,
Prince Buster,
Zapp,
Audionom,
Surgeon,
Wasted Youth,
Babytalk,
Sam Rivers,
Alton Ellis,
The Searchers,
Freddie Wadling,
Alice Coltrane,
Crooked Eye,
Livin' Joy,
Deepchord,
Dorothy Ashby,
Trumans Water,
James White and The Blacks,
Thompson Twins,
Yellowson,
New Age Steppers,
Cybotron,
L. Decosne,
Eden Ahbez,
Danielle Patucci,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Dirtbombs,
The Cramps,
PIL, PIL, PIL, PIL.
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.