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 Uzbekistan and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ 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 Barrington Levy to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Kaleidoscope. All the underground hits.
All Brand Nubian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kings Of Tomorrow 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Graham Central Station record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Music Machine,
Banda Bassotti,
The Count Five,
Joe Smooth,
Stetsasonic,
Rites of Spring,
Wings,
The Angels of Light,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Kenny Larkin,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Goldenarms,
Stiv Bators,
Nick Fraelich,
Dark Day,
The Dead C,
Tomorrow,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Symarip,
Tears for Fears,
The Electric Prunes,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Echospace,
Eric Copeland,
Michelle Simonal,
Mars,
Qualms,
Mad Mike,
Crash Course in Science,
The Happenings,
The Red Krayola,
10cc,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Pulsallama,
Eric Dolphy,
Steve Hackett,
The Techniques,
Eli Mardock,
the Bar-Kays,
Morten Harket,
Boz Scaggs,
The Index,
The Slits,
Curtis Mayfield,
Eurythmics,
Camouflage,
Hasil Adkins,
Crispy Ambulance,
Funky Four + One,
Skriet,
Radiohead,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Aloha Tigers,
Nirvana,
Alison Limerick,
Grandmaster Flash,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Trojans,
Monolake,
Lucky Dragons,
Dual Sessions,
The Walker Brothers, The Walker Brothers, The Walker Brothers, The Walker Brothers.
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.