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 Sierra Leone and from Accra.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Ultra Naté to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Index. All the underground hits.
All Girls At Our Best! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Mojo Men record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Shadows of Knight record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Depeche Mode,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Blancmange,
New York Dolls,
Black Sheep,
Freddie Wadling,
Suicide,
Dark Day,
Kool Moe Dee,
D'Angelo,
Slave,
H. Thieme,
Unwound,
Gichy Dan,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Raincoats,
Sexual Harrassment,
Glambeats Corp.,
Joe Finger,
Fatback Band,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Rapeman,
Tres Demented,
Danielle Patucci,
Steve Hackett,
Outsiders,
Rakim,
Audionom,
Bobby Sherman,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Nils Olav,
Isaac Hayes,
The Velvet Underground,
Tubeway Army,
Thompson Twins,
Boredoms,
Das Ding,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Peter and Kerry,
Sandy B,
Tommy Roe,
Talk Talk,
Accadde A,
Reagan Youth,
X-101,
Alice Coltrane,
Qualms,
Swans,
Drexciya,
The Pop Group,
Vladislav Delay,
Ultravox,
Desert Stars,
Fela Kuti,
Kerrie Biddell,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Index,
The Wake,
Brothers Johnson,
The Doobie Brothers,
Visage,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.