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 Mauritius and from Taipei.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the güiro 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Scan 7. All the underground hits.
All The Dirtbombs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mars 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Visage,
Blossom Toes,
The Divine Comedy,
Pere Ubu,
Au Pairs,
Girls At Our Best!,
Aswad,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Mo-Dettes,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Modern Lovers,
James White and The Blacks,
Bush Tetras,
Second Layer,
The Velvet Underground,
Pierre Henry,
Jawbox,
Lee Hazlewood,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Blues Magoos,
The Slits,
The Shadows of Knight,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Minnie Riperton,
Tom Boy,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Pagans,
Bronski Beat,
Ultravox,
The Mojo Men,
Erasure,
Todd Terry,
Electric Prunes,
The Move,
Glambeats Corp.,
Sex Pistols,
Royal Trux,
Public Enemy,
Drexciya,
The Sound,
Oblivians,
Moss Icon,
Scion,
Eurythmics,
Soulsonic Force,
Bang On A Can,
Echospace,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Flesh Eaters,
David Axelrod,
The Monochrome Set,
The Grass Roots,
Man Eating Sloth,
Carl Craig,
Banda Bassotti,
Black Flag,
Saccharine Trust,
Fear,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Blackbyrds,
Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn.
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.