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 Rwanda and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron 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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 kango's stein massive to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Sällskapet. All the underground hits.
All Hot Snakes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barclay James Harvest 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Flesh Eaters,
Jacques Brel,
Average White Band,
Dennis Brown,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Technova,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Sarah Menescal,
Unwound,
Agitation Free,
Masters at Work,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Mr. Review,
Pulsallama,
The United States of America,
Eve St. Jones,
The Cowsills,
The Standells,
The Busters,
Eric B and Rakim,
Pylon,
Little Man,
Archie Shepp,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Fatback Band,
Robert Hood,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Ohio Players,
Soulsonic Force,
Barry Ungar,
The Skatalites,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Stetsasonic,
Panda Bear,
Sixth Finger,
ABBA,
Marcia Griffiths,
Symarip,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Fuzztones,
The Detroit Cobras,
Fat Boys,
the Bar-Kays,
Freddie Wadling,
Yellowson,
Joensuu 1685,
The Modern Lovers,
Curtis Mayfield,
Motorama,
the Normal,
Rites of Spring,
the Slits,
Rotary Connection,
Faraquet,
Scratch Acid,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Sexual Harrassment,
Scott Walker, Scott Walker, Scott Walker, Scott Walker.
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.