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 Nicaragua and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Fatback Band to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Bobby Byrd. All the underground hits.
All Ossler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oneida 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Copeland record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mummies,
Ituana,
Clear Light,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Bob Dylan,
AZ,
The Fugs,
F. McDonald,
Aswad,
Michelle Simonal,
Dead Boys,
The Last Poets,
Nico,
Los Fastidios,
Robert Görl,
Cymande,
Marshall Jefferson,
Surgeon,
Vainqueur,
New Order,
Steve Hackett,
In Retrospect,
Ten City,
Neil Young,
Gregory Isaacs,
Scratch Acid,
cv313,
Eric Dolphy,
Deakin,
Graham Central Station,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Ponytail,
Rekid,
Camberwell Now,
Scott Walker,
Connie Case,
Chris Corsano,
Alton Ellis,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Standells,
The Star Department,
The Angels of Light,
The Music Machine,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Fuzztones,
Frankie Knuckles,
Au Pairs,
Lalo Schifrin,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Misunderstood,
Arcadia,
Dennis Brown,
Mark Hollis,
Rapeman,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Tubeway Army,
Kaleidoscope,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Mad Mike,
Black Moon,
Moss Icon, Moss Icon, Moss Icon, Moss Icon.
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.