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 El Salvador and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
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 Hoover to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Matthew Bourne. All the underground hits.
All Yusef Lateef tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minnie Riperton record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fortunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Moleskins,
the Association,
The Smoke,
Frankie Knuckles,
Cymande,
The Associates,
Marshall Jefferson,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Dead C,
The Electric Prunes,
Godley & Creme,
Depeche Mode,
Oneida,
Panda Bear,
Talk Talk,
Terry Callier,
Bobby Sherman,
Radiopuhelimet,
Sixth Finger,
Dennis Brown,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Marc Almond,
Roger Hodgson,
Negative Approach,
The Searchers,
Quando Quango,
Dawn Penn,
Peter & Gordon,
The Mummies,
The Slackers,
Kenny Larkin,
Todd Terry,
Eric B and Rakim,
AZ,
Colin Newman,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Moebius,
Slick Rick,
The Fall,
Sällskapet,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Mr. Review,
Yazoo,
The Angels of Light,
Soft Machine,
Grauzone,
Country Teasers,
Unwound,
Eli Mardock,
Clear Light,
Michelle Simonal,
Faraquet,
Jimmy McGriff,
Marvin Gaye,
The J.B.'s,
The Durutti Column,
Inner City,
The New Christs,
Peter and Kerry,
Al Stewart,
Minor Threat, Minor Threat, Minor Threat, Minor Threat.
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.