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 Botswana and from Glasgow.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 spring reverb 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 Al Stewart to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Kool Moe Dee. All the underground hits.
All Bob Dylan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every In Retrospect 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 guitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mummies record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Electric Prunes,
Joe Smooth,
Black Pus,
The Neon Judgement,
Das Ding,
The Busters,
Franke,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Swell Maps,
Throbbing Gristle,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Davy DMX,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Rosa Yemen,
Althea and Donna,
Dark Day,
Organ,
Nas,
Roy Ayers,
Quantec,
Magma,
Tomorrow,
the Soft Cell,
The Fuzztones,
Sexual Harrassment,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Kinks,
Curtis Mayfield,
Lindisfarne,
The Vogues,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Star Department,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Beau Brummels,
Livin' Joy,
Jerry's Kids,
Robert Görl,
Harry Pussy,
Joyce Sims,
The Saints,
D'Angelo,
Derrick May,
Tears for Fears,
Jeff Lynne,
The Young Rascals,
David Axelrod,
Lightning Bolt,
The Human League,
Oblivians,
PIL,
The Black Dice,
Sixth Finger,
DJ Style,
The American Breed,
Eurythmics,
Gerry Rafferty,
Babytalk,
Rotary Connection,
Essential Logic,
ABBA,
Sparks,
Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review.
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.