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 Malawi and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the rhodes 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 The Young Rascals to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Second Layer. All the underground hits.
All Stockholm Monsters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Modern Lovers 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tres Demented record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thompson Twins,
New Order,
Darondo,
Boogie Down Productions,
the Human League,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Bluetip,
Fela Kuti,
Mars,
Ossler,
Malaria!,
Warren Ellis,
Loose Ends,
The Five Americans,
Ten City,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
cv313,
Parry Music,
Johnny Osbourne,
John Coltrane,
Leonard Cohen,
Theoretical Girls,
Henry Cow,
Young Marble Giants,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
E-Dancer,
U.S. Maple,
Spoonie Gee,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Lindisfarne,
Jacques Brel,
The Last Poets,
Electric Prunes,
Massinfluence,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Flesh Eaters,
Public Image Ltd.,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Black Moon,
The Gladiators,
The American Breed,
Essential Logic,
Scientists,
Gang Starr,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Section 25,
Kerri Chandler,
Amazonics,
Absolute Body Control,
Suburban Knight,
The Skatalites,
Bobby Womack,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Mr. Review,
Throbbing Gristle,
Easy Going,
Alphaville,
Smog,
the Soft Cell,
Barclay James Harvest,
Royal Trux,
Negative Approach, Negative Approach, Negative Approach, Negative Approach.
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.