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 Micronesia and from Calgary.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Major Organ And The Adding Machine to the grunge 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 The Electric Prunes. All the underground hits.
All Moby Grape tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roger Hodgson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gun Club record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Holt,
CMW,
The Names,
Robert Hood,
Letta Mbulu,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Nik Kershaw,
Pagans,
Crash Course in Science,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Robert Görl,
Jimmy McGriff,
This Heat,
Urselle,
Lindisfarne,
Soft Cell,
Whodini,
Qualms,
Subhumans,
Negative Approach,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Flash Fearless,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Joy Division,
Tom Boy,
Kevin Saunderson,
Alphaville,
Lightning Bolt,
Ultra Naté,
The United States of America,
June of 44,
The Grass Roots,
Angry Samoans,
Henry Cow,
La Düsseldorf,
Crispy Ambulance,
John Lydon,
The Zeros,
Section 25,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Mars,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Franke,
Bootsy Collins,
the Soft Cell,
MDC,
Kas Product,
ABBA,
Eli Mardock,
The Move,
Con Funk Shun,
Minutemen,
The Star Department,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
EPMD,
Chris Corsano,
Index,
The Leaves,
The Buckinghams,
The Wake, The Wake, The Wake, The Wake.
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.