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 Papua New Guinea and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 The Five Americans to the disco 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 Eve St. Jones. All the underground hits.
All Strawberry Alarm Clock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hoover 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Boz Scaggs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispy Ambulance,
Saccharine Trust,
Sly & The Family Stone,
These Immortal Souls,
The Cowsills,
The Gladiators,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Colin Newman,
Cameo,
The United States of America,
Eve St. Jones,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Nils Olav,
Radiohead,
Terry Callier,
Gerry Rafferty,
Public Image Ltd.,
Von Mondo,
Oneida,
DNA,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Fat Boys,
June Days,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Mummies,
Isaac Hayes,
Shoche,
Altered Images,
Donny Hathaway,
The Raincoats,
E-Dancer,
Freddie Wadling,
Talk Talk,
The Seeds,
Moby Grape,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Tremeloes,
Tres Demented,
The Wake,
Qualms,
Blossom Toes,
The Fire Engines,
Don Cherry,
Radiopuhelimet,
D'Angelo,
Sonic Youth,
The Mojo Men,
the Association,
Marshall Jefferson,
Stereo Dub,
Stiv Bators,
Gregory Isaacs,
Rosa Yemen,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Jacques Brel,
Eli Mardock,
Aloha Tigers,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Pere Ubu,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Magazine,
Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane.
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.