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 Cameroon and from Delhi.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Severed Heads to the grime 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 June of 44. All the underground hits.
All Funkadelic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Moleskins 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Boz Scaggs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fall,
Wally Richardson,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Harry Pussy,
Malaria!,
Funky Four + One,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Pole,
Black Moon,
The Electric Prunes,
Rapeman,
Davy DMX,
The Black Dice,
The Young Rascals,
Quando Quango,
The Doors,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
ABBA,
Rhythm & Sound,
Stockholm Monsters,
Little Man,
Ituana,
Newcleus,
Livin' Joy,
Suburban Knight,
Motorama,
Joe Finger,
The Sound,
Sparks,
Nik Kershaw,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Anthony Braxton,
The Star Department,
Maleditus Sound,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Trojans,
OOIOO,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
the Sonics,
Leonard Cohen,
Joey Negro,
Essential Logic,
New Order,
Nas,
Cluster,
Ultra Naté,
Icehouse,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Soulsonic Force,
Maurizio,
X-102,
Absolute Body Control,
David McCallum,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Spoonie Gee,
Glenn Branca,
Lucky Dragons,
Surgeon,
Crime, Crime, Crime, Crime.
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.