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 Nauru and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Human League to the rap 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 ABBA. All the underground hits.
All The Offenders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sex Pistols 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Swell Maps record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Organ,
The Monochrome Set,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Scion,
Bang On A Can,
B.T. Express,
Cecil Taylor,
Black Moon,
Gang Gang Dance,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Martian,
Goldenarms,
The Motions,
Unwound,
Lebanon Hanover,
Sexual Harrassment,
Idris Muhammad,
Mantronix,
Depeche Mode,
Boz Scaggs,
Ronan,
Little Man,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Clear Light,
Rakim,
The Associates,
Slick Rick,
Rod Modell,
The Fortunes,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Stiv Bators,
Boogie Down Productions,
Funky Four + One,
Heaven 17,
Black Sheep,
Minor Threat,
Nico,
Banda Bassotti,
Amon Düül II,
Pulsallama,
Kurtis Blow,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
the Association,
Pole,
Hardrive,
Alton Ellis,
Maleditus Sound,
Bronski Beat,
Stockholm Monsters,
Cheater Slicks,
Ultravox,
Eric B and Rakim,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Black Pus,
Howard Jones,
Black Flag,
JFA,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic.
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.