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 Norway and from Sao Paulo.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Mad Mike to the techno 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 Gabor Szabo. All the underground hits.
All Half Japanese tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terrestrial Tones 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Simply Red record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alice Coltrane,
Dorothy Ashby,
Kool Moe Dee,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Smoke,
Saccharine Trust,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Suburban Knight,
The Evens,
Sight & Sound,
The J.B.'s,
Angry Samoans,
Youth Brigade,
The Remains,
Mad Mike,
Pylon,
Steve Hackett,
The Durutti Column,
John Foxx,
Terrestrial Tones,
Neu!,
Japan,
Liliput,
The Doobie Brothers,
the Fania All-Stars,
Nick Fraelich,
The Last Poets,
Arcadia,
Derrick May,
Country Teasers,
Porter Ricks,
The Gun Club,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Yazoo,
Dead Boys,
Lalann,
Organ,
Scrapy,
Oblivians,
The Count Five,
B.T. Express,
Arthur Verocai,
Letta Mbulu,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Fela Kuti,
The Slackers,
Niagra,
Camberwell Now,
Thee Headcoats,
The Gladiators,
Iggy Pop,
Kerrie Biddell,
Scientists,
Gregory Isaacs,
Chris Corsano,
Sandy B,
David Bowie,
Television Personalities,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Neil Young, Neil Young, Neil Young, Neil Young.
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.