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 Netherlands and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Faraquet to the grunge 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 The Divine Comedy. All the underground hits.
All Eve St. Jones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Selecter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Mad Mike,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Fuzztones,
Excepter,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Mo-Dettes,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
X-101,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Marc Almond,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Roxy Music,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Traffic Nightmare,
Tres Demented,
the Soft Cell,
The Count Five,
The Moleskins,
Wasted Youth,
Whodini,
Y Pants,
A Certain Ratio,
The Dave Clark Five,
Sällskapet,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Joey Negro,
the Association,
Marine Girls,
Rotary Connection,
Half Japanese,
Hashim,
Bluetip,
Intrusion,
Girls At Our Best!,
Quantec,
Lalo Schifrin,
the Fania All-Stars,
Jeru the Damaja,
Bang On A Can,
Leonard Cohen,
Masters at Work,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Sisters of Mercy,
DNA,
Eric Copeland,
Qualms,
Scott Walker,
Lebanon Hanover,
This Heat,
Fatback Band,
Ponytail,
Radiohead,
Saccharine Trust,
Gang Starr,
The Skatalites,
Hoover,
Funky Four + One,
Lou Christie, Lou Christie, Lou Christie, Lou Christie.
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.