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 Kenya and from Bologna.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Gong to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Mr. Review. All the underground hits.
All Radiopuhelimet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alton Ellis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The New Christs,
Bluetip,
Joe Finger,
Crispian St. Peters,
Fear,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Excepter,
Tim Buckley,
Q and Not U,
Wire,
Oneida,
John Cale,
Quando Quango,
The Smoke,
Lou Christie,
Soul II Soul,
John Lydon,
Lou Reed,
Outsiders,
Monks,
The Moleskins,
kango's stein massive,
Sun City Girls,
Suburban Knight,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Lyres,
Harpers Bizarre,
Zapp,
Harry Pussy,
The Litter,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
UT,
The Gories,
Barclay James Harvest,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Maurizio,
John Holt,
Cheater Slicks,
Blake Baxter,
Dual Sessions,
The Invisible,
Janne Schatter,
Toni Rubio,
Dark Day,
The United States of America,
Todd Terry,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Nation of Ulysses,
Wasted Youth,
Make Up,
John Coltrane,
U.S. Maple,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Wings,
The Mojo Men,
Subhumans,
Silicon Teens,
Fugazi,
Nick Fraelich,
New York Dolls,
Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange.
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.