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 Fiji and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 The Offenders to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 United States of America. All the underground hits.
All Pulsallama tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Con Funk Shun 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Massinfluence record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harpers Bizarre,
The Dead C,
The Fortunes,
Tomorrow,
The Trojans,
Das Ding,
Graham Central Station,
Barclay James Harvest,
Joyce Sims,
Blossom Toes,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Mr. Review,
Cybotron,
Soul II Soul,
Laurel Aitken,
Theoretical Girls,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Girls At Our Best!,
Moby Grape,
The Music Machine,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Smog,
Goldenarms,
Ultimate Spinach,
Donald Byrd,
Jeff Lynne,
Sixth Finger,
The Modern Lovers,
The Slits,
The Cowsills,
Banda Bassotti,
Kaleidoscope,
Al Stewart,
The New Christs,
Camouflage,
Sällskapet,
Boogie Down Productions,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Echospace,
Gabor Szabo,
Supertramp,
Easy Going,
Scrapy,
Saccharine Trust,
DNA,
Jeff Mills,
The Associates,
Zapp,
Darondo,
Flash Fearless,
Suburban Knight,
Ken Boothe,
Eric Dolphy,
Deakin,
The Gap Band,
Ten City,
Television,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Visage,
Yusef Lateef,
The Searchers,
Mission of Burma,
Ash Ra Tempel, Ash Ra Tempel, Ash Ra Tempel, Ash Ra Tempel.
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.