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 Ivory Coast and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 guitar 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 Tropical Tobacco to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Matthew Halsall. All the underground hits.
All The Standells tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Negative Approach record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slick Rick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Essential Logic,
Monks,
Shoche,
Stereo Dub,
The Trojans,
Panda Bear,
Terrestrial Tones,
Rhythm & Sound,
Magma,
Johnny Osbourne,
Barry Ungar,
Donald Byrd,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
David McCallum,
D'Angelo,
Theoretical Girls,
Camouflage,
Kool Moe Dee,
Barclay James Harvest,
Danielle Patucci,
Public Enemy,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Music Machine,
Jeff Mills,
Sarah Menescal,
Massinfluence,
James White and The Blacks,
Derrick May,
John Lydon,
Ultravox,
The Names,
Cluster,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Prince Buster,
Leonard Cohen,
Alice Coltrane,
Joy Division,
Bluetip,
Accadde A,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Rites of Spring,
Mr. Review,
Big Daddy Kane,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Grey Daturas,
Gil Scott Heron,
Cal Tjader,
Sam Rivers,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Zeros,
Nico,
Moby Grape,
Cybotron,
Eddi Front,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Blackbyrds,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
T.S.O.L.,
Grauzone,
The Vogues,
U.S. Maple, U.S. Maple, U.S. Maple, U.S. Maple.
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.