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 Liberia and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Columbus.
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 Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the organ 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 Ralphi Rosario to the electroclash 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 Bobbi Humphrey. All the underground hits.
All Yusef Lateef tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boz Scaggs 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Procol Harum record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slave,
Curtis Mayfield,
Dawn Penn,
Cymande,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Misunderstood,
Ultra Naté,
The Tremeloes,
Monolake,
Josef K,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Pantytec,
The Saints,
Lou Christie,
Khruangbin,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Reuben Wilson,
Ponytail,
Alton Ellis,
Archie Shepp,
The Fuzztones,
Kerrie Biddell,
Crime,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Skatalites,
Quantec,
Vainqueur,
Kevin Saunderson,
Dave Gahan,
The Zeros,
Jerry's Kids,
Qualms,
Kool Moe Dee,
Von Mondo,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
June of 44,
The Searchers,
The Flesh Eaters,
Whodini,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Isaac Hayes,
Gabor Szabo,
Clear Light,
Delta 5,
Scott Walker,
Stereo Dub,
Half Japanese,
The Fugs,
Joyce Sims,
Eric Copeland,
MDC,
Gang Green,
the Fania All-Stars,
Avey Tare,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Monochrome Set,
Fatback Band,
Jacques Brel,
Colin Newman,
EPMD,
Leonard Cohen,
Icehouse,
The Gun Club,
Monks, Monks, Monks, Monks.
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.