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 Ukraine and from New York.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Winnipeg.
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 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 Kayak to the crunk 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 Funky Four + One. All the underground hits.
All The Modern Lovers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cybotron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Donny Hathaway,
Mars,
Tommy Roe,
D'Angelo,
Vladislav Delay,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Crime,
New York Dolls,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Leonard Cohen,
Joyce Sims,
Spandau Ballet,
Rekid,
Ludus,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Unrelated Segments,
Maurizio,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Sexual Harrassment,
Jesper Dahlback,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Pole,
the Bar-Kays,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Fuzztones,
cv313,
Hardrive,
Kurtis Blow,
Carl Craig,
Sam Rivers,
Dead Boys,
Pussy Galore,
Blossom Toes,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Subhumans,
Cheater Slicks,
These Immortal Souls,
Reuben Wilson,
Grey Daturas,
The Fire Engines,
Amon Düül,
Nik Kershaw,
Camberwell Now,
Crash Course in Science,
Bluetip,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Robert Görl,
Magma,
The Five Americans,
Ultimate Spinach,
Goldenarms,
Barbara Tucker,
Shuggie Otis,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Henry Cow,
Sparks,
Oneida,
Saccharine Trust,
Interpol,
The Victims,
Donald Byrd,
Derrick Morgan, Derrick Morgan, Derrick Morgan, Derrick Morgan.
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.