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 Palau and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 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 Amon Düül II to the crunk 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 Masters at Work. All the underground hits.
All Shoche tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tropical Tobacco 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kings Of Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Real Kids,
The Skatalites,
Easy Going,
Darondo,
These Immortal Souls,
Brand Nubian,
Nico,
ABC,
Organ,
Yellowson,
The Grass Roots,
The J.B.'s,
Chris Corsano,
Stockholm Monsters,
Arcadia,
Hasil Adkins,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Connie Case,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
World's Most,
Index,
Reagan Youth,
Peter and Kerry,
Cheater Slicks,
Curtis Mayfield,
Wally Richardson,
Vladislav Delay,
Tears for Fears,
The Human League,
Parry Music,
Pussy Galore,
The Kinks,
Von Mondo,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Marine Girls,
Scrapy,
Brothers Johnson,
Alice Coltrane,
Liliput,
Tommy Roe,
Hoover,
Simply Red,
Quantec,
Talk Talk,
Soft Cell,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Yusef Lateef,
Alphaville,
Moebius,
A Certain Ratio,
DNA,
Zero Boys,
The Offenders,
Trumans Water,
Black Sheep,
D'Angelo,
Tropical Tobacco,
Cluster,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Fire Engines,
The Index,
Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith.
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.