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 Lebanon and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Fat Boys. All the underground hits.
All Sexual Harrassment tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Talk Talk 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Inner City record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Monks,
Interpol,
Blancmange,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Alarm Clocks,
Matthew Bourne,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Spandau Ballet,
Pere Ubu,
Urselle,
The Last Poets,
Subhumans,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Hardrive,
Gregory Isaacs,
Sonny Sharrock,
Piero Umiliani,
Easy Going,
Blake Baxter,
Slave,
Junior Murvin,
The Slits,
Marvin Gaye,
Flipper,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
UT,
F. McDonald,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Beau Brummels,
Byron Stingily,
Sällskapet,
Mark Hollis,
Mission of Burma,
DNA,
Vainqueur,
The Flesh Eaters,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Cure,
The Moleskins,
Visage,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Gap Band,
Rekid,
Barbara Tucker,
T.S.O.L.,
Depeche Mode,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Gong,
Wasted Youth,
The Electric Prunes,
Sexual Harrassment,
Ralphi Rosario,
China Crisis,
Con Funk Shun,
The Move,
The Wake,
EPMD,
Half Japanese, Half Japanese, Half Japanese, Half Japanese.
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.