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 Tanzania and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Bang On A Can 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 Crash Course in Science. All the underground hits.
All Icehouse tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David Bowie record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Quadrant record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Hood,
Mo-Dettes,
Tears for Fears,
Pet Shop Boys,
Faraquet,
The Sound,
Pantaleimon,
Young Marble Giants,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Red Krayola,
These Immortal Souls,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
David Axelrod,
Icehouse,
Laurel Aitken,
Nirvana,
Eric Copeland,
Surgeon,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Dirtbombs,
Eurythmics,
The Velvet Underground,
Man Parrish,
Jacques Brel,
Warsaw,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Selecter,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Deadbeat,
The Music Machine,
DNA,
Sun Ra,
Nico,
Absolute Body Control,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Camouflage,
Urselle,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Alison Limerick,
Public Image Ltd.,
MC5,
Black Pus,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Lyres,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Ituana,
Wally Richardson,
The Evens,
Roger Hodgson,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
U.S. Maple,
B.T. Express,
Kayak,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Fugs,
Sonny Sharrock,
Suicide,
Y Pants,
Skaos, Skaos, Skaos, Skaos.
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.