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 Fiji and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 arpeggiator 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 The Dirtbombs to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Toni Rubio. All the underground hits.
All The Moody Blues tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rufus Thomas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lucky Dragons record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tres Demented,
DNA,
The Moleskins,
Lower 48,
Metal Thangz,
The Dirtbombs,
F. McDonald,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Howard Jones,
Franke,
Matthew Bourne,
The Names,
Danielle Patucci,
Sun City Girls,
Boz Scaggs,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Leaves,
Jeff Lynne,
Mr. Review,
Todd Terry,
Mission of Burma,
Procol Harum,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Fire Engines,
Brick,
Gang Starr,
Al Stewart,
Thee Headcoats,
Fad Gadget,
the Soft Cell,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Big Daddy Kane,
Isaac Hayes,
The American Breed,
Cybotron,
The Knickerbockers,
The Invisible,
The Zeros,
Ultravox,
Bizarre Inc.,
Sound Behaviour,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Deakin,
Black Bananas,
Suburban Knight,
The Gladiators,
Moebius,
Gil Scott Heron,
Model 500,
Barclay James Harvest,
the Fania All-Stars,
Gabor Szabo,
Kurtis Blow,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Cal Tjader,
Harmonia,
Symarip,
Whodini,
Traffic Nightmare,
Steve Hackett,
Pierre Henry,
Anthony Braxton,
The Monks, The Monks, The Monks, The Monks.
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.