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 Equatorial Guinea 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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Simply Red to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Bobby Byrd. All the underground hits.
All Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every OOIOO 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Alarm Clocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Toasters,
the Sonics,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Bronski Beat,
Pulsallama,
The Dirtbombs,
The Fugs,
The Doobie Brothers,
Roy Ayers,
Hot Snakes,
New Order,
The Invisible,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Angels of Light,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Lyres,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Cal Tjader,
Tim Buckley,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Sound,
Byron Stingily,
Toni Rubio,
Tears for Fears,
Bootsy Collins,
Rod Modell,
Tom Boy,
Lou Christie,
Funky Four + One,
Mission of Burma,
David Bowie,
Kerri Chandler,
Lalann,
The Electric Prunes,
Soul II Soul,
Heaven 17,
Flash Fearless,
Absolute Body Control,
Roxy Music,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Blackbyrds,
Arcadia,
Soul Sonic Force,
Matthew Bourne,
Kevin Saunderson,
Danielle Patucci,
The Motions,
Neil Young,
Surgeon,
Mo-Dettes,
The Velvet Underground,
Black Flag,
Pierre Henry,
Man Parrish,
X-101,
Stiv Bators,
R.M.O.,
a-ha,
Yaz,
Siglo XX,
Quando Quango, Quando Quango, Quando Quango, Quando Quango.
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.