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 Namibia and from Taipei.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
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 Zero Boys to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 B.T. Express. All the underground hits.
All Talk Talk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pole record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
World's Most,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Five Americans,
Tropical Tobacco,
Bobby Byrd,
Crooked Eye,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Siglo XX,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Grass Roots,
Ten City,
Tom Boy,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Charles Mingus,
Tears for Fears,
The United States of America,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Colin Newman,
Mission of Burma,
David McCallum,
Television,
June Days,
The Busters,
E-Dancer,
the Bar-Kays,
David Bowie,
Man Eating Sloth,
Joe Finger,
Sound Behaviour,
The Offenders,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Technova,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Peter & Gordon,
Radio Birdman,
Albert Ayler,
Brand Nubian,
The Cure,
Harry Pussy,
The Fall,
the Swans,
Cluster,
the Human League,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Moebius,
Animal Collective,
Qualms,
Barry Ungar,
Funkadelic,
Brass Construction,
Godley & Creme,
Rufus Thomas,
Mr. Review,
Ohio Players,
the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars.
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.