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 Ivory Coast and from Spokane.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks to the dance 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 Stiv Bators. All the underground hits.
All Grey Daturas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Flamin' Groovies 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
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 Boz Scaggs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Janne Schatter,
Jeff Lynne,
The Pretty Things,
8 Eyed Spy,
Fad Gadget,
World's Most,
Warsaw,
Pulsallama,
Howard Jones,
Khruangbin,
Frankie Knuckles,
Hasil Adkins,
Electric Prunes,
Ice-T,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Boz Scaggs,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Zeros,
Sonny Sharrock,
Scan 7,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Barry Ungar,
Charles Mingus,
Crime,
The Pop Group,
Tears for Fears,
L. Decosne,
Sandy B,
Sun City Girls,
Panda Bear,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Tremeloes,
Curtis Mayfield,
Roy Ayers,
Motorama,
X-101,
Amon Düül II,
The Moleskins,
The American Breed,
Glenn Branca,
The Litter,
Wire,
ABC,
Skarface,
Jerry's Kids,
Average White Band,
Bush Tetras,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Associates,
Neu!,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Monochrome Set,
Tommy Roe,
Gang Green,
Spoonie Gee,
Trumans Water,
Letta Mbulu,
Negative Approach,
Mantronix,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Q65,
The Fire Engines,
Masters at Work, Masters at Work, Masters at Work, Masters at Work.
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.