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 Greece and from Beijing.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan 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 Amon Düül. All the underground hits.
All Q and Not U tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roxy Music 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Boogie Down Productions record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The New Christs,
U.S. Maple,
The Shadows of Knight,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Cymande,
Loose Ends,
Wally Richardson,
The Vogues,
Funkadelic,
Slick Rick,
Soft Machine,
The Residents,
Suburban Knight,
Thompson Twins,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Technova,
The Dead C,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Sound,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Soul Sonic Force,
Tommy Roe,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Mad Mike,
H. Thieme,
the Association,
the Human League,
Guru Guru,
Moby Grape,
Bush Tetras,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Lower 48,
Connie Case,
Model 500,
The Martian,
The Detroit Cobras,
Q65,
Desert Stars,
Mars,
Rhythm & Sound,
PIL,
Warsaw,
Black Sheep,
Country Teasers,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Happenings,
Stiv Bators,
James White and The Blacks,
Darondo,
Sparks,
Brothers Johnson,
Talk Talk,
Rekid,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Frankie Knuckles,
The J.B.'s,
Deadbeat,
Crispian St. Peters,
Parry Music,
The Buckinghams,
Dawn Penn,
Tubeway Army,
Nas, Nas, Nas, Nas.
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.