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 Zimbabwe and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Bremen.
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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Country Teasers to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Boredoms. All the underground hits.
All Fatback Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ronnie Foster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Faust record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jacob Miller,
Duran Duran,
Mo-Dettes,
This Heat,
Alphaville,
Scan 7,
ABBA,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
EPMD,
Sex Pistols,
Ken Boothe,
Brothers Johnson,
Traffic Nightmare,
Circle Jerks,
JFA,
Kevin Saunderson,
B.T. Express,
Harpers Bizarre,
Jandek,
Aloha Tigers,
Big Daddy Kane,
Easy Going,
Joy Division,
Don Cherry,
John Coltrane,
The Index,
Davy DMX,
Sun City Girls,
Gastr Del Sol,
Vainqueur,
Delta 5,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Whodini,
Model 500,
Nik Kershaw,
Mission of Burma,
Skarface,
The Cowsills,
Bluetip,
Magazine,
Los Fastidios,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Golliwogs,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Chris Corsano,
Kurtis Blow,
Sixth Finger,
The Black Dice,
a-ha,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Trojans,
T.S.O.L.,
Johnny Osbourne,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Bootsy Collins,
World's Most,
Michelle Simonal,
Sound Behaviour,
LL Cool J,
Black Sheep,
Clear Light, Clear Light, Clear Light, Clear Light.
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.