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 Ethiopia and from Sao Paulo.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Fugs to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Prince Buster. All the underground hits.
All Tropical Tobacco tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Seeds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slackers,
Au Pairs,
Lower 48,
The Last Poets,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Los Fastidios,
Franke,
Urselle,
LL Cool J,
Matthew Bourne,
Neu!,
Andrew Hill,
Bluetip,
Suicide,
Reagan Youth,
Camberwell Now,
Todd Terry,
The Modern Lovers,
Masters at Work,
Judy Mowatt,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Ten City,
James White and The Blacks,
Black Moon,
The Electric Prunes,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Fire Engines,
Lebanon Hanover,
Lalo Schifrin,
Alison Limerick,
June of 44,
The American Breed,
Derrick May,
The Knickerbockers,
Oblivians,
The Smoke,
Smog,
Slick Rick,
Main Source,
Monolake,
The Fuzztones,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Sarah Menescal,
The Moody Blues,
Minor Threat,
Eddi Front,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Frankie Knuckles,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Sugar Minott,
Organ,
The Count Five,
Fat Boys,
The Happenings,
Barrington Levy,
Sandy B,
Zapp,
The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C.
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.