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 Cyprus and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 oboe 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 Rhythm & Sound to the dance 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 Kenny Larkin. All the underground hits.
All Average White Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Sherman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tears for Fears record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Steve Hackett,
Accadde A,
Jeff Mills,
Q65,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Throbbing Gristle,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Carl Craig,
Rekid,
the Human League,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Marine Girls,
The Walker Brothers,
The Real Kids,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Camberwell Now,
Dawn Penn,
Crime,
Cal Tjader,
Zapp,
The Pop Group,
The Pretty Things,
The Saints,
The Remains,
Pagans,
Black Moon,
Shoche,
Minutemen,
Metal Thangz,
Alton Ellis,
the Germs,
Cymande,
Drive Like Jehu,
Andrew Hill,
Half Japanese,
Jeru the Damaja,
Adolescents,
Fela Kuti,
Main Source,
Marc Almond,
Agitation Free,
The American Breed,
The Buckinghams,
Bang On A Can,
Eurythmics,
Chrome,
The Gun Club,
The Evens,
Mandrill,
the Soft Cell,
Scientists,
Todd Terry,
Animal Collective,
Ituana,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Hasil Adkins,
Essential Logic,
Tomorrow,
Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna.
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.