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 Bolivia and from Tehran.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Mexico City.
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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the theremin 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 Royal Family And The Poor to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Wings. All the underground hits.
All The Star Department tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soft Machine record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Don Cherry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kayak,
The Motions,
Underground Resistance,
PIL,
The Martian,
ABBA,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Ultra Naté,
kango's stein massive,
The Cramps,
the Fania All-Stars,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
John Cale,
Deepchord,
Peter & Gordon,
Marshall Jefferson,
Delon & Dalcan,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Roxette,
Severed Heads,
Black Moon,
Slave,
Sugar Minott,
Q65,
Zapp,
La Düsseldorf,
Roy Ayers,
Babytalk,
Wally Richardson,
Suicide,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Reagan Youth,
The Happenings,
LL Cool J,
Jeru the Damaja,
Jacob Miller,
New Order,
B.T. Express,
The Doors,
Derrick Morgan,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Little Man,
Jimmy McGriff,
Moebius,
Crispian St. Peters,
Eurythmics,
The Red Krayola,
Drexciya,
The Angels of Light,
Tomorrow,
Stereo Dub,
Pet Shop Boys,
Bob Dylan,
John Lydon,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Stetsasonic,
Man Eating Sloth,
Dave Gahan,
Blossom Toes,
Scott Walker,
The Knickerbockers,
Inner City,
Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses.
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.