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 Uzbekistan and from Shanghai.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Anthony Braxton to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Adolescents. All the underground hits.
All Cabaret Voltaire tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sonny Sharrock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gerry Rafferty,
The Smoke,
Public Enemy,
Agitation Free,
Neil Young,
The Offenders,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ultra Naté,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Amon Düül,
David Axelrod,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Cameo,
Fear,
The Beau Brummels,
Black Sheep,
Malaria!,
The Pretty Things,
Deakin,
Saccharine Trust,
Kevin Saunderson,
Max Romeo,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Cure,
Black Pus,
Wire,
Slick Rick,
48th St. Collective,
Michelle Simonal,
The Busters,
The Modern Lovers,
Wasted Youth,
The Searchers,
Metal Thangz,
Altered Images,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Black Flag,
The Selecter,
Scrapy,
Pagans,
Beasts of Bourbon,
the Sonics,
Organ,
Country Teasers,
Eden Ahbez,
Adolescents,
Warsaw,
Yaz,
Sparks,
June Days,
kango's stein massive,
Crispy Ambulance,
Fugazi,
Tommy Roe,
Dead Boys,
John Coltrane,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Panda Bear,
Yellowson,
the Human League,
The Neon Judgement, The Neon Judgement, The Neon Judgement, The Neon Judgement.
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.