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 Mauritius and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Black Bananas to the funk 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 Gerry Rafferty. All the underground hits.
All The Monks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Misunderstood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tears for Fears,
The Selecter,
Silicon Teens,
Mr. Review,
The Monks,
10cc,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Wake,
Pantytec,
The Last Poets,
Lalann,
The Count Five,
The Monochrome Set,
The Electric Prunes,
Excepter,
FM Einheit,
Clear Light,
Wally Richardson,
Man Parrish,
The Velvet Underground,
Pharoah Sanders,
Pussy Galore,
8 Eyed Spy,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Oneida,
X-101,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Camberwell Now,
The Angels of Light,
New York Dolls,
Make Up,
Ludus,
Urselle,
Tom Boy,
Yusef Lateef,
Bauhaus,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Janne Schatter,
Duran Duran,
Roger Hodgson,
MDC,
Adolescents,
La Düsseldorf,
Dead Boys,
Ultimate Spinach,
Kayak,
Malaria!,
Blake Baxter,
The Toasters,
Soul II Soul,
Little Man,
Morten Harket,
ABC,
The Mummies,
Alice Coltrane,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Leaves,
The Cowsills,
Gang Gang Dance,
Bush Tetras,
Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science.
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.