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 Malawi and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 theremin 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 Ten City to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Wally Richardson. All the underground hits.
All Lonnie Liston Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ken Boothe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 mellotron and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Anakelly record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Eating Sloth,
The American Breed,
Little Man,
48th St. Collective,
Lower 48,
Niagra,
The Martian,
Subhumans,
Royal Trux,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
One Last Wish,
Reuben Wilson,
Janne Schatter,
Sun City Girls,
Marvin Gaye,
Avey Tare,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Trojans,
Camouflage,
Pussy Galore,
Shuggie Otis,
The Doors,
Rapeman,
Parry Music,
The Names,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Eric Dolphy,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Skriet,
Porter Ricks,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Archie Shepp,
Colin Newman,
The Dirtbombs,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Angels of Light,
Kerri Chandler,
Soft Cell,
Monolake,
Derrick May,
Ronan,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Zeros,
H. Thieme,
Lightning Bolt,
Camberwell Now,
Angry Samoans,
Procol Harum,
Pole,
The Divine Comedy,
Jeff Mills,
Juan Atkins,
Charles Mingus,
Half Japanese,
Todd Rundgren,
T.S.O.L.,
CMW,
The Remains,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Erykah Badu,
Frankie Knuckles,
Deepchord,
Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus.
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.