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 Iran and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 arpeggiator 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 Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Pet Shop Boys. All the underground hits.
All Piero Umiliani tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeff Lynne 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eyeless In Gaza record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Victims,
Toni Rubio,
The Neon Judgement,
Soul Sonic Force,
Subhumans,
Procol Harum,
Peter and Kerry,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Motions,
Amon Düül,
The Cramps,
Angry Samoans,
X-102,
Niagra,
Minny Pops,
B.T. Express,
Kayak,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Juan Atkins,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Liliput,
Bob Dylan,
Pole,
Arab on Radar,
LL Cool J,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Whodini,
Scion,
Althea and Donna,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Lyres,
Mo-Dettes,
Frankie Knuckles,
Brass Construction,
The Doors,
Pere Ubu,
Sight & Sound,
Gil Scott Heron,
Sällskapet,
The Mojo Men,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Gap Band,
Mad Mike,
Interpol,
CMW,
Erykah Badu,
Minutemen,
the Association,
Reagan Youth,
These Immortal Souls,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Music Machine,
Deepchord,
Gastr Del Sol,
Stiv Bators,
Maleditus Sound,
Barclay James Harvest, Barclay James Harvest, Barclay James Harvest, Barclay James Harvest.
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.