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 Mexico and from Lagos.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 Notorious Big And Bone Thugs to the funk 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog. All the underground hits.
All Derrick Morgan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suicide 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 harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Parry Music record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Womack,
Ituana,
Gerry Rafferty,
Scion,
Graham Central Station,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
cv313,
Throbbing Gristle,
Nas,
The Slits,
The Trojans,
Crime,
Ponytail,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Deepchord,
Marmalade,
Cameo,
Television Personalities,
World's Most,
Nils Olav,
Oblivians,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Television,
Procol Harum,
Mo-Dettes,
The Mojo Men,
Ludus,
Piero Umiliani,
Davy DMX,
Dorothy Ashby,
kango's stein massive,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Simply Red,
Kayak,
Lyres,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Skriet,
Spandau Ballet,
Can,
Audionom,
Outsiders,
Quantec,
Gastr Del Sol,
Drive Like Jehu,
Sam Rivers,
The Five Americans,
Radio Birdman,
Au Pairs,
Flash Fearless,
Porter Ricks,
Rhythm & Sound,
Freddie Wadling,
Cheater Slicks,
U.S. Maple,
Jeff Mills,
Judy Mowatt,
Das Ding,
D'Angelo,
Smog,
Black Moon,
David McCallum,
the Sonics,
Pantaleimon,
the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell.
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.