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 Cambodia and from Jakarta.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Shuggie Otis to the disco 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 Gang of Four. All the underground hits.
All Mars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lightning Bolt 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Beasts of Bourbon,
Harry Pussy,
Lebanon Hanover,
Qualms,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Harpers Bizarre,
Minnie Riperton,
Suburban Knight,
Robert Hood,
Davy DMX,
John Holt,
Johnny Clarke,
Eve St. Jones,
Dead Boys,
Soul II Soul,
Warsaw,
Throbbing Gristle,
Audionom,
Josef K,
The Slackers,
Mary Jane Girls,
Jeff Lynne,
Kenny Larkin,
The Victims,
Darondo,
Albert Ayler,
Motorama,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Pere Ubu,
Arcadia,
The Blues Magoos,
The Blackbyrds,
Todd Terry,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
New York Dolls,
X-101,
The Standells,
David Axelrod,
X-Ray Spex,
The New Christs,
The Happenings,
Pet Shop Boys,
KRS-One,
The Wake,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Barrington Levy,
Tomorrow,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Todd Rundgren,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Erasure,
The Barracudas,
Symarip,
The Residents,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Desert Stars,
ABBA,
Sound Behaviour,
Faraquet, Faraquet, Faraquet, Faraquet.
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.