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 Philadelphia.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Ronnie Foster to the dance 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 Boz Scaggs. All the underground hits.
All Tres Demented tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Pop Group record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wally Richardson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Certain Ratio,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Q and Not U,
World's Most,
Porter Ricks,
Toni Rubio,
Sun City Girls,
Tommy Roe,
the Slits,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Talk Talk,
Gastr Del Sol,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Steve Hackett,
Rekid,
Derrick May,
Lebanon Hanover,
Angry Samoans,
Pussy Galore,
X-101,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Scrapy,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Happenings,
Girls At Our Best!,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Goldenarms,
Index,
Terry Callier,
Can,
Cymande,
Fear,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Toasters,
Dorothy Ashby,
Inner City,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Suicide,
Traffic Nightmare,
Average White Band,
Section 25,
Heaven 17,
Bob Dylan,
The Black Dice,
The Count Five,
The Fugs,
The New Christs,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Bizarre Inc.,
Whodini,
the Swans,
Minutemen,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Joey Negro,
Stetsasonic,
Bobby Byrd,
Sarah Menescal,
Alton Ellis,
Freddie Wadling,
Aswad,
Archie Shepp,
Throbbing Gristle,
U.S. Maple,
Ultramagnetic MC's, Ultramagnetic MC's, Ultramagnetic MC's, Ultramagnetic MC's.
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.