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 Gambia and from Lyon.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Beijing.
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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Eric Dolphy to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Monochrome Set. All the underground hits.
All A Flock of Seagulls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Graham Central Station record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mighty Diamonds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Skaos,
The Blackbyrds,
Spoonie Gee,
Tropical Tobacco,
Traffic Nightmare,
8 Eyed Spy,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Faust,
Arthur Verocai,
Organ,
The Names,
Agitation Free,
Michelle Simonal,
Circle Jerks,
A Certain Ratio,
the Bar-Kays,
Simply Red,
Blancmange,
Mantronix,
The Toasters,
Sex Pistols,
Los Fastidios,
Cluster,
Tom Boy,
The Last Poets,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Quantec,
Jerry Gold Smith,
T.S.O.L.,
Desert Stars,
Todd Terry,
The Beau Brummels,
The J.B.'s,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Freddie Wadling,
Magazine,
B.T. Express,
The Slits,
Idris Muhammad,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Depeche Mode,
The Five Americans,
World's Most,
Swans,
Yazoo,
Eric Dolphy,
Black Sheep,
Nation of Ulysses,
Theoretical Girls,
Gerry Rafferty,
Kurtis Blow,
The Fire Engines,
Sister Nancy,
Q and Not U,
Ituana,
Whodini,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Scion,
The Divine Comedy,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Susan Cadogan,
Rakim, Rakim, Rakim, Rakim.
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.