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 Oman and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the marimba 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 Camouflage to the rock 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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks. All the underground hits.
All Rufus Thomas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sad Lovers and Giants record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a ABBA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Franke,
Connie Case,
the Sonics,
Newcleus,
Blake Baxter,
Joey Negro,
Popol Vuh,
U.S. Maple,
Loose Ends,
Theoretical Girls,
Outsiders,
The Real Kids,
The Divine Comedy,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Maurizio,
Gong,
Faust,
Steve Hackett,
The Cure,
Flipper,
Sixth Finger,
Ornette Coleman,
Clear Light,
The Flesh Eaters,
New Age Steppers,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Dorothy Ashby,
Rapeman,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Kerrie Biddell,
Electric Prunes,
The Move,
Todd Terry,
Bizarre Inc.,
Mad Mike,
Roxette,
The Cowsills,
Duran Duran,
Sugar Minott,
Deepchord,
Los Fastidios,
Rakim,
Stetsasonic,
The Gun Club,
Ossler,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Minny Pops,
Royal Trux,
This Heat,
The Last Poets,
Model 500,
Jesper Dahlback,
Graham Central Station,
Eric Dolphy,
Chris & Cosey,
Skaos,
Carl Craig,
Brick,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Moody Blues,
Ultravox,
Inner City,
Jandek, Jandek, Jandek, Jandek.
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.