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 Haiti and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band to the electroclash 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 Sandy B. All the underground hits.
All Joyce Sims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Alarm Clocks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jeru the Damaja record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Motorama,
LL Cool J,
Neil Young,
Marcia Griffiths,
Pantytec,
Scott Walker,
The J.B.'s,
OOIOO,
Aloha Tigers,
Fear,
Ultimate Spinach,
These Immortal Souls,
Pet Shop Boys,
Scrapy,
X-Ray Spex,
Television,
Swell Maps,
Stockholm Monsters,
Mandrill,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Roy Ayers,
Ultra Naté,
Unwound,
New Order,
Stiv Bators,
Black Sheep,
Surgeon,
Unrelated Segments,
The Golliwogs,
Index,
The Litter,
Ice-T,
Parry Music,
The Saints,
Bill Wells,
Lakeside,
DNA,
Wire,
Hot Snakes,
The Walker Brothers,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Dirtbombs,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Blancmange,
Arcadia,
World's Most,
Johnny Clarke,
Boz Scaggs,
Bang On A Can,
Mad Mike,
Rotary Connection,
Joensuu 1685,
The Happenings,
Eve St. Jones,
Jeru the Damaja,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Cybotron,
Albert Ayler,
The Sound,
Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders.
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.