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 Kenya and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 organ 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 The Happenings to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Robert Görl. All the underground hits.
All Delon & Dalcan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 sitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DeepChord presents Echospace record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rhythm & Sound,
The Offenders,
Bluetip,
Trumans Water,
The New Christs,
New York Dolls,
Heaven 17,
Tubeway Army,
The J.B.'s,
Camouflage,
Marine Girls,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Roger Hodgson,
Unwound,
Joensuu 1685,
The Five Americans,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Doobie Brothers,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
June of 44,
Hashim,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Roxette,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Von Mondo,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Yaz,
Inner City,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Flamin' Groovies,
James White and The Blacks,
Icehouse,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Buckinghams,
Dave Gahan,
CMW,
The Trojans,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Golliwogs,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Eddi Front,
R.M.O.,
8 Eyed Spy,
The United States of America,
Alton Ellis,
Nation of Ulysses,
Darondo,
Symarip,
Con Funk Shun,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Piero Umiliani,
X-101,
Morten Harket,
Dawn Penn,
Mark Hollis,
Popol Vuh,
Public Image Ltd.,
Radio Birdman,
Junior Murvin,
Heavy D & The Boyz, Heavy D & The Boyz, Heavy D & The Boyz, Heavy D & The Boyz.
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.