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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1973 at the first Television 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 T. Rex to the grime 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 The Leaves. All the underground hits.
All Make Up tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maleditus Sound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 808 and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cymande,
Susan Cadogan,
Fluxion,
Wire,
The Gladiators,
Khruangbin,
Swans,
The Divine Comedy,
Pantytec,
Bluetip,
Morten Harket,
Con Funk Shun,
Shuggie Otis,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Misunderstood,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
K-Klass,
Fela Kuti,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
JFA,
Mr. Review,
Pharoah Sanders,
Banda Bassotti,
Electric Prunes,
Erykah Badu,
Quadrant,
Tommy Roe,
Minnie Riperton,
Dual Sessions,
Zapp,
Simply Red,
Derrick May,
Camouflage,
Delon & Dalcan,
Unrelated Segments,
U.S. Maple,
Lou Christie,
The Trojans,
The Dead C,
Bill Wells,
Crispian St. Peters,
Jacob Miller,
Depeche Mode,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
the Normal,
Flipper,
Young Marble Giants,
Porter Ricks,
Sonny Sharrock,
Nils Olav,
Index,
Lalann,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Pere Ubu,
Sound Behaviour,
Dead Boys,
Donald Byrd,
Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys.
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.