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 Mauritania and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 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 Rhythim Is Rhythim to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Erykah Badu. All the underground hits.
All Ronan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roxette record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Green,
The Flesh Eaters,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Lindisfarne,
Delon & Dalcan,
Jeff Mills,
The Standells,
Make Up,
Black Bananas,
Skaos,
Tubeway Army,
The Slits,
Juan Atkins,
Deakin,
The Grass Roots,
Loose Ends,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Reagan Youth,
The Cowsills,
The Knickerbockers,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Faust,
John Foxx,
OOIOO,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Marine Girls,
Patti Smith,
Pere Ubu,
Trumans Water,
The Offenders,
Guru Guru,
Thompson Twins,
Junior Murvin,
The Human League,
The Dirtbombs,
Japan,
Yazoo,
the Germs,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Aloha Tigers,
Mars,
Sugar Minott,
The Associates,
The Searchers,
Brand Nubian,
Nation of Ulysses,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Camouflage,
Slave,
Mr. Review,
Sandy B,
Silicon Teens,
Franke,
Can,
Porter Ricks,
Newcleus,
The Blues Magoos,
The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola.
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.