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 the UAE and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Sao Paulo.
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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the organ 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 Arab on Radar to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Tears for Fears. All the underground hits.
All Charles Mingus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fire Engines record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 guitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Accadde A record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Victims,
John Coltrane,
The Invisible,
Cybotron,
The Red Krayola,
Gang of Four,
Aaron Thompson,
The Count Five,
Grey Daturas,
Lyres,
Flamin' Groovies,
Slick Rick,
Procol Harum,
the Normal,
Can,
The Modern Lovers,
The Pop Group,
Andrew Hill,
The Fire Engines,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Ronnie Foster,
In Retrospect,
John Lydon,
Eric Copeland,
Essential Logic,
X-102,
Gang Gang Dance,
Mr. Review,
Robert Hood,
Joe Smooth,
Smog,
Qualms,
Little Man,
Amon Düül,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Kurtis Blow,
Todd Terry,
Dead Boys,
Neu!,
Q65,
Erykah Badu,
Eric Dolphy,
Wings,
Ultimate Spinach,
Alice Coltrane,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Move,
Gichy Dan,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Babytalk,
Radio Birdman,
Bob Dylan,
Duran Duran,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Skaos,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Roy Ayers,
The Angels of Light,
The American Breed,
Black Pus,
Young Marble Giants,
Royal Trux,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen.
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.