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 Afghanistan and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Scan 7 to the electroclash 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 The Cowsills. All the underground hits.
All N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Moby Grape record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Avey Tare record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cluster,
The Doors,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Radiopuhelimet,
the Human League,
Porter Ricks,
Arab on Radar,
The Black Dice,
Carl Craig,
Juan Atkins,
Lou Reed,
Roxette,
David Bowie,
Fela Kuti,
Charles Mingus,
Rapeman,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
UT,
X-Ray Spex,
Sparks,
Scan 7,
Flash Fearless,
Kool Moe Dee,
Dark Day,
The Litter,
David Axelrod,
The Fall,
Kevin Saunderson,
Cal Tjader,
Eric B and Rakim,
Wire,
Cecil Taylor,
Eurythmics,
U.S. Maple,
Frankie Knuckles,
Magazine,
Gang Gang Dance,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
PIL,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Dorothy Ashby,
8 Eyed Spy,
10cc,
Marvin Gaye,
Negative Approach,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Joey Negro,
Amazonics,
The Star Department,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
R.M.O.,
Schoolly D,
Quadrant,
the Bar-Kays,
Subhumans,
Soulsonic Force,
The Searchers,
Crash Course in Science,
Von Mondo, Von Mondo, Von Mondo, Von Mondo.
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.