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 Czech Republic and from Bremen.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Connie Case to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Fatback Band. All the underground hits.
All Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Traffic Nightmare record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Colin Newman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Starr,
In Retrospect,
Metal Thangz,
Severed Heads,
10cc,
Mark Hollis,
Mantronix,
Siglo XX,
Junior Murvin,
Tres Demented,
Hot Snakes,
Kevin Saunderson,
Scrapy,
Rakim,
World's Most,
D'Angelo,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Clear Light,
The Leaves,
Gang Green,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Techniques,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Jeff Lynne,
Bauhaus,
Minnie Riperton,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Wire,
The Evens,
Scan 7,
Rotary Connection,
Hashim,
Hasil Adkins,
The Doors,
The Monks,
The Music Machine,
Girls At Our Best!,
Sight & Sound,
The Residents,
Al Stewart,
Subhumans,
Bobby Womack,
Howard Jones,
The Cramps,
Adolescents,
Gerry Rafferty,
Man Parrish,
The Blackbyrds,
Flipper,
Glambeats Corp.,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Aaron Thompson,
Jerry's Kids,
Don Cherry,
Cal Tjader,
Sarah Menescal,
The Wake,
Magazine,
Roy Ayers,
Youth Brigade,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
JFA,
Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes.
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.