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 Croatia and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Copenhagen.
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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Marc Almond to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Pharoah Sanders. All the underground hits.
All Spoonie Gee tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kango’s Stein Massive record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Remains record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Silicon Teens,
Fluxion,
Franke,
Kurtis Blow,
Sight & Sound,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Michelle Simonal,
Charles Mingus,
Jerry's Kids,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Porter Ricks,
Magma,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
X-102,
The Standells,
Judy Mowatt,
Prince Buster,
Rekid,
Roy Ayers,
Surgeon,
Sam Rivers,
Traffic Nightmare,
Flash Fearless,
Siglo XX,
EPMD,
Harry Pussy,
Ken Boothe,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Monks,
Vladislav Delay,
Joyce Sims,
Aaron Thompson,
The Monochrome Set,
Yusef Lateef,
June Days,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Severed Heads,
Terry Callier,
Clear Light,
Delta 5,
Jeff Lynne,
Brass Construction,
The Cure,
Jacob Miller,
Pantaleimon,
UT,
Grey Daturas,
Ronan,
Warsaw,
The American Breed,
Arcadia,
The Red Krayola,
Bad Manners,
Subhumans,
Reuben Wilson,
Au Pairs,
David Axelrod,
Infiniti,
The Blues Magoos,
The Last Poets,
The Associates,
The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics.
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.