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 Seychelles and from Copenhagen.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 theremin 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 Porter Ricks to the rock kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell. All the underground hits.
All Gregory Isaacs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun Ra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Average White Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Beasts of Bourbon,
Zero Boys,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Bill Wells,
Circle Jerks,
The Doors,
Harmonia,
Sex Pistols,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
DJ Style,
Gichy Dan,
Simply Red,
Second Layer,
Crash Course in Science,
Kayak,
New Age Steppers,
The Happenings,
Theoretical Girls,
Rufus Thomas,
Kerri Chandler,
The Wake,
Moby Grape,
Aloha Tigers,
Ultra Naté,
Motorama,
Flamin' Groovies,
The American Breed,
Black Pus,
Roger Hodgson,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Mark Hollis,
Jacques Brel,
Ornette Coleman,
Average White Band,
Saccharine Trust,
Smog,
Rod Modell,
Davy DMX,
Hoover,
Lakeside,
Robert Wyatt,
Sugar Minott,
Sonic Youth,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Charles Mingus,
Yellowson,
Sam Rivers,
Bootsy Collins,
Nico,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Busters,
Nirvana,
Young Marble Giants,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Suicide,
Pierre Henry,
Rakim,
The Gun Club,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Smoke,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby.
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.