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 Turkey and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
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 Nirvana to the rap 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 Blake Baxter. All the underground hits.
All LL Cool J tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Standells 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Make Up record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sex Pistols,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Marshall Jefferson,
T. Rex,
Duran Duran,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Smoke,
Masters at Work,
Mo-Dettes,
Minnie Riperton,
Schoolly D,
Main Source,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Graham Central Station,
X-Ray Spex,
Man Eating Sloth,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Electric Prunes,
The Young Rascals,
Michelle Simonal,
Intrusion,
Erasure,
Lightning Bolt,
Yaz,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Circle Jerks,
the Normal,
Mark Hollis,
The Mummies,
Monolake,
The Stooges,
Stockholm Monsters,
La Düsseldorf,
Q65,
Rosa Yemen,
X-101,
Rotary Connection,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Soft Machine,
Kerrie Biddell,
Letta Mbulu,
Pantytec,
Das Ding,
48th St. Collective,
Groovy Waters,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Kinks,
Reuben Wilson,
Eric B and Rakim,
Pharoah Sanders,
UT,
Japan,
The Litter,
Ken Boothe,
8 Eyed Spy,
Marine Girls,
Bang On A Can,
Spoonie Gee,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Icehouse,
Roger Hodgson,
Camberwell Now,
The Fall, The Fall, The Fall, The Fall.
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.