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 Burundi and from New York.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 chamberlin 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 Yaz to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Red Krayola. All the underground hits.
All Yellowson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Loose Ends 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Charles Mingus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultravox,
the Fania All-Stars,
Slave,
Blossom Toes,
Magma,
Barclay James Harvest,
The New Christs,
Guru Guru,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Cymande,
Harmonia,
Monks,
Pussy Galore,
Malaria!,
Anthony Braxton,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Scientists,
Prince Buster,
Drexciya,
Davy DMX,
This Heat,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Stockholm Monsters,
ABBA,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Agent Orange,
Drive Like Jehu,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
James White and The Blacks,
Joe Finger,
Letta Mbulu,
The J.B.'s,
The Fugs,
The Monks,
Urselle,
Shuggie Otis,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Music Machine,
The Flesh Eaters,
X-102,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Slits,
Warsaw,
Crooked Eye,
New York Dolls,
Von Mondo,
Sun City Girls,
Los Fastidios,
KRS-One,
Khruangbin,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Roxette,
ABC,
The Fuzztones,
Eric Copeland,
Sugar Minott,
Bluetip,
Depeche Mode,
Public Enemy,
The Motions,
The Doobie Brothers, The Doobie Brothers, The Doobie Brothers, The Doobie Brothers.
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.