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 France and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Sao Paulo.
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 organ 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 The Barracudas 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 David Bowie. All the underground hits.
All James White and The Blacks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Frankie Knuckles record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rosa Yemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ralphi Rosario,
Glambeats Corp.,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Litter,
AZ,
Rekid,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Tremeloes,
Mantronix,
X-101,
Yusef Lateef,
Moss Icon,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Flesh Eaters,
Interpol,
Index,
The Count Five,
Boogie Down Productions,
Ohio Players,
Reuben Wilson,
The Monks,
Negative Approach,
Ituana,
Junior Murvin,
Jesper Dahlback,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Monochrome Set,
Scrapy,
Pulsallama,
Sam Rivers,
MDC,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Todd Terry,
Surgeon,
Agent Orange,
New York Dolls,
Sugar Minott,
Faraquet,
The Red Krayola,
Angry Samoans,
Japan,
Hardrive,
the Soft Cell,
Nils Olav,
Marmalade,
Bizarre Inc.,
Heaven 17,
Lindisfarne,
Guru Guru,
Sexual Harrassment,
Main Source,
Barry Ungar,
The Gories,
Ossler,
Audionom,
Ronnie Foster,
The Slits,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Andrew Hill,
Camouflage,
Prince Buster, Prince Buster, Prince Buster, Prince Buster.
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.