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 Guinea and from Tokyo.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 clarinet 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 Freddie Wadling to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Joy Division. All the underground hits.
All Cal Tjader tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sisters of Mercy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 marimba and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joe Finger,
The Red Krayola,
Sam Rivers,
DJ Sneak,
Easy Going,
Terry Callier,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Gregory Isaacs,
Erykah Badu,
Dave Gahan,
Main Source,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Smiths,
X-102,
Tim Buckley,
Harry Pussy,
cv313,
John Lydon,
Hasil Adkins,
Ultimate Spinach,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Moody Blues,
Howard Jones,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Barbara Tucker,
Moebius,
The Saints,
Bluetip,
Man Parrish,
The Knickerbockers,
Derrick Morgan,
Schoolly D,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Todd Terry,
The Tremeloes,
Donny Hathaway,
Josef K,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Aswad,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Barrington Levy,
Black Flag,
The Pop Group,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Mr. Review,
Visage,
Electric Prunes,
Agent Orange,
Spandau Ballet,
A Certain Ratio,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Marcia Griffiths,
June of 44,
Flamin' Groovies,
Panda Bear,
Pulsallama,
Rod Modell,
Joy Division,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Con Funk Shun,
Althea and Donna,
Lebanon Hanover,
Eurythmics,
Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras.
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.