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 Cape Verde and from Delhi.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 clarinet 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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 to the dance 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 Hoover. All the underground hits.
All Rapeman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pet Shop Boys record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kings Of Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eric Dolphy,
Donald Byrd,
Roxette,
Liliput,
Simply Red,
Neu!,
Ludus,
David McCallum,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
David Bowie,
Eurythmics,
Sex Pistols,
Eden Ahbez,
Joey Negro,
Crispian St. Peters,
Fugazi,
Glambeats Corp.,
Charles Mingus,
Yusef Lateef,
Symarip,
Easy Going,
Arab on Radar,
Unwound,
Johnny Osbourne,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Rosa Yemen,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Aural Exciters,
New York Dolls,
Fela Kuti,
The Selecter,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Saints,
The Sonics,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Slave,
The Blues Magoos,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Pantytec,
Skaos,
Jawbox,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Lucky Dragons,
Erykah Badu,
Alison Limerick,
Throbbing Gristle,
Sixth Finger,
Reagan Youth,
Saccharine Trust,
Jacob Miller,
La Düsseldorf,
Danielle Patucci,
Groovy Waters,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Jeff Lynne,
Funkadelic,
The Toasters,
Maurizio,
Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats.
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.