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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 rhodes 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 James White and The Blacks to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Sexual Harrassment. All the underground hits.
All Inner City tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David McCallum 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 marimba and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Velvet Underground record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cramps,
Joyce Sims,
Grey Daturas,
Franke,
The Gap Band,
MDC,
Rapeman,
8 Eyed Spy,
Wasted Youth,
The American Breed,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
La Düsseldorf,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Flesh Eaters,
Mantronix,
Davy DMX,
Ronan,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Birthday Party,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Fad Gadget,
The Gladiators,
48th St. Collective,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Iggy Pop,
Royal Trux,
Mark Hollis,
The Pop Group,
The Offenders,
The Wake,
Yellowson,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Lalo Schifrin,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Zapp,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Radiohead,
The Modern Lovers,
Public Image Ltd.,
Gong,
Magazine,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Cecil Taylor,
Scott Walker,
The Stooges,
Kayak,
Colin Newman,
10cc,
The Trojans,
Swell Maps,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Eric Copeland,
Tropical Tobacco,
Y Pants,
Pierre Henry,
MC5,
The Detroit Cobras,
Frankie Knuckles,
Harmonia,
Ultra Naté,
The Grass Roots,
Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers.
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.