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 Turkmenistan and from Portland.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the marimba 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 Faust to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Al Stewart. All the underground hits.
All Jacques Brel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every T.S.O.L. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fugs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Eating Sloth,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Parry Music,
Monks,
Bush Tetras,
Chris & Cosey,
China Crisis,
Marvin Gaye,
Cameo,
Moebius,
the Bar-Kays,
Magazine,
Godley & Creme,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Aswad,
The Smoke,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Pulsallama,
Skaos,
Aural Exciters,
Duran Duran,
The Slackers,
Kenny Larkin,
Donny Hathaway,
Hardrive,
Sarah Menescal,
Skriet,
Kaleidoscope,
Grandmaster Flash,
Brothers Johnson,
Soul II Soul,
The Victims,
Spandau Ballet,
The Move,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Lou Reed,
Flamin' Groovies,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
the Association,
Soft Machine,
Rakim,
Adolescents,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Gladiators,
Fear,
Mary Jane Girls,
Don Cherry,
Minny Pops,
Deakin,
Black Sheep,
Echospace,
Lalann,
Royal Trux,
Quantec,
Clear Light,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Accadde A,
The Doobie Brothers,
Blake Baxter,
Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson.
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.