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 Dominican Republic and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Beau Brummels to the punk 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 Traffic Nightmare. All the underground hits.
All Main Source tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun City Girls 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wings,
Mandrill,
Bauhaus,
The Leaves,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The J.B.'s,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Popol Vuh,
David Axelrod,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Laurel Aitken,
Maurizio,
the Sonics,
Fear,
The Slits,
Tres Demented,
Massinfluence,
Nico,
The Dirtbombs,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Cymande,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Spandau Ballet,
The Beau Brummels,
KRS-One,
Tommy Roe,
Spoonie Gee,
Charles Mingus,
Organ,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Bobby Byrd,
Warsaw,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Man Parrish,
Aural Exciters,
Lalann,
The Cramps,
The Monochrome Set,
Rhythm & Sound,
Stiv Bators,
Mr. Review,
The Vogues,
Al Stewart,
Gil Scott Heron,
U.S. Maple,
The Evens,
Black Sheep,
kango's stein massive,
The Saints,
Soft Machine,
Mad Mike,
Symarip,
Con Funk Shun,
Flash Fearless,
Infiniti,
Crispy Ambulance,
Radio Birdman,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Kinks,
Duran Duran,
Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs.
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.