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 Mauritania and from Hong Kong.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 chamberlin 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 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Symarip. All the underground hits.
All Stiv Bators tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Los Fastidios record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Yellowson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Byron Stingily,
The United States of America,
Nirvana,
Peter and Kerry,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Mantronix,
Drexciya,
The Smoke,
Deepchord,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Johnny Clarke,
Porter Ricks,
Rites of Spring,
Public Image Ltd.,
Tears for Fears,
Au Pairs,
Scrapy,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Royal Trux,
DJ Style,
Crime,
Ultravox,
Girls At Our Best!,
Electric Prunes,
ABBA,
Lakeside,
Minor Threat,
Big Daddy Kane,
Minutemen,
John Coltrane,
the Association,
Supertramp,
Maurizio,
John Lydon,
Swans,
The Invisible,
Radiopuhelimet,
Todd Terry,
Nick Fraelich,
Scott Walker,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Pretty Things,
Yazoo,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Human League,
The Flesh Eaters,
Harmonia,
Brand Nubian,
Yaz,
Quando Quango,
Masters at Work,
Cameo,
The Monochrome Set,
Michelle Simonal,
Tommy Roe,
The Fortunes,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
June Days,
Godley & Creme,
Gil Scott Heron,
Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman.
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.