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 Kazakhstan and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 arpeggiator 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 Toni Rubio to the funk 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 New York Dolls. All the underground hits.
All Joyce Sims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Vogues record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dirtbombs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June of 44,
Franke,
Scrapy,
The Star Department,
Moss Icon,
Terrestrial Tones,
Nils Olav,
The American Breed,
Mantronix,
In Retrospect,
Jeff Mills,
a-ha,
Dual Sessions,
The Martian,
Alison Limerick,
KRS-One,
The Techniques,
Joensuu 1685,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Thompson Twins,
Minor Threat,
The Fall,
Newcleus,
The Angels of Light,
Swell Maps,
Idris Muhammad,
Boz Scaggs,
Goldenarms,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Groovy Waters,
Rakim,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Sunsets and Hearts,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Echospace,
Ultra Naté,
Scott Walker,
Nik Kershaw,
The Cramps,
Gang Starr,
Camouflage,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
UT,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Archie Shepp,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Monks,
Chris & Cosey,
Lou Christie,
Radio Birdman,
Hardrive,
Don Cherry,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Con Funk Shun,
Sixth Finger,
Pussy Galore,
Skriet,
Max Romeo,
Kayak,
The Index,
B.T. Express,
Ronan, Ronan, Ronan, Ronan.
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.