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 Sierra Leone and from Madrid.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Donald Byrd to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 LL Cool J. All the underground hits.
All The Black Dice tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultravox 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nirvana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Curtis Mayfield,
Depeche Mode,
The Mummies,
Leonard Cohen,
R.M.O.,
Slave,
Susan Cadogan,
The Detroit Cobras,
Brand Nubian,
Yusef Lateef,
the Slits,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Doobie Brothers,
Delon & Dalcan,
Bobby Womack,
the Germs,
Liliput,
Barbara Tucker,
The Tremeloes,
Toni Rubio,
Quando Quango,
Little Man,
The Barracudas,
The Mojo Men,
Camouflage,
Graham Central Station,
Lalo Schifrin,
Bizarre Inc.,
Rod Modell,
Technova,
Rakim,
Janne Schatter,
Gabor Szabo,
Sun City Girls,
Eric Copeland,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Pet Shop Boys,
Young Marble Giants,
The Flesh Eaters,
Cymande,
Aloha Tigers,
Joe Finger,
Wasted Youth,
Swell Maps,
Mission of Burma,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Lyres,
the Human League,
Minutemen,
Los Fastidios,
Rosa Yemen,
Television,
Aswad,
Soul Sonic Force,
June of 44,
DJ Style,
The Grass Roots,
Circle Jerks,
Franke,
The Fortunes,
Ponytail,
Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!.
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.