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 South Sudan and from Portland.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Brothers Johnson to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Los Fastidios. All the underground hits.
All Ronnie Foster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Television 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 güiro and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
These Immortal Souls,
Soft Machine,
Eddi Front,
Schoolly D,
Jacques Brel,
Maurizio,
Fela Kuti,
Aswad,
Swans,
The Gun Club,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Section 25,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Kevin Saunderson,
Animal Collective,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Newcleus,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Eurythmics,
E-Dancer,
The Names,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Freddie Wadling,
The Offenders,
8 Eyed Spy,
Au Pairs,
Eve St. Jones,
Y Pants,
Babytalk,
EPMD,
Michelle Simonal,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Public Enemy,
Janne Schatter,
Anthony Braxton,
Glambeats Corp.,
Wolf Eyes,
Eric Dolphy,
Procol Harum,
Amazonics,
Ultimate Spinach,
Archie Shepp,
Sexual Harrassment,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
This Heat,
Tears for Fears,
Joyce Sims,
Gabor Szabo,
Angry Samoans,
10cc,
Dennis Brown,
Kayak,
Radio Birdman,
Underground Resistance,
Neu!,
Pulsallama,
The Residents,
FM Einheit,
Nation of Ulysses,
Icehouse,
Make Up, Make Up, Make Up, Make Up.
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.