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 Slovakia and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
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 Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson to the rock 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog. All the underground hits.
All Fela Kuti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DJ Style record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ten City record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oneida,
Soul Sonic Force,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The American Breed,
The Happenings,
Radiopuhelimet,
Harmonia,
the Fania All-Stars,
Inner City,
Make Up,
Cymande,
Robert Hood,
Pet Shop Boys,
Joe Smooth,
Erasure,
Pere Ubu,
ABC,
the Swans,
Pussy Galore,
Sly & The Family Stone,
D'Angelo,
Tommy Roe,
Yusef Lateef,
Jawbox,
Maurizio,
The Move,
Dual Sessions,
8 Eyed Spy,
Lindisfarne,
Bauhaus,
Rekid,
Niagra,
E-Dancer,
Derrick May,
Fatback Band,
Eric Copeland,
Duran Duran,
Thee Headcoats,
The Gun Club,
Harry Pussy,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Roxette,
Japan,
This Heat,
T.S.O.L.,
Stetsasonic,
Shoche,
Malaria!,
Intrusion,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Saccharine Trust,
The Offenders,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Invisible,
The Blues Magoos,
Moby Grape,
Ornette Coleman,
Marvin Gaye,
The Techniques,
Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma.
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.