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 Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez 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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 The Fire Engines to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Shadows of Knight. All the underground hits.
All Janne Schatter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 theremin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Almond record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The American Breed,
Shuggie Otis,
China Crisis,
Soul Sonic Force,
Lou Christie,
Pussy Galore,
The Slits,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Index,
Ituana,
Marshall Jefferson,
Brick,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Mandrill,
Bush Tetras,
Tubeway Army,
Juan Atkins,
Subhumans,
Fela Kuti,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Slick Rick,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Wings,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Cowsills,
John Coltrane,
Bill Wells,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Dual Sessions,
Bauhaus,
New Age Steppers,
Jesper Dahlback,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
OOIOO,
The Fuzztones,
the Bar-Kays,
The Five Americans,
The Durutti Column,
World's Most,
Fat Boys,
Crooked Eye,
Q65,
The Flesh Eaters,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Excepter,
Adolescents,
Traffic Nightmare,
Main Source,
Jeff Lynne,
LL Cool J,
the Sonics,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Kaleidoscope,
Todd Rundgren,
DJ Sneak,
Desert Stars,
Joensuu 1685,
Radiohead,
Simply Red,
Gang Gang Dance,
Intrusion,
Howard Jones, Howard Jones, Howard Jones, Howard Jones.
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.