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 Syria and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Major Organ And The Adding Machine to the grime 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 World's Most. All the underground hits.
All Dorothy Ashby tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gabor Szabo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 a snare and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Section 25,
Bobby Womack,
Scott Walker,
ABBA,
Slick Rick,
Marshall Jefferson,
the Fania All-Stars,
Kool Moe Dee,
Ken Boothe,
Throbbing Gristle,
Slave,
One Last Wish,
Marine Girls,
John Cale,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Q and Not U,
Ten City,
The Alarm Clocks,
Black Moon,
The Divine Comedy,
Von Mondo,
Sällskapet,
Essential Logic,
Morten Harket,
Neil Young,
Grey Daturas,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Wally Richardson,
Aswad,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Roger Hodgson,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
LL Cool J,
Sun City Girls,
The Sound,
Deadbeat,
This Heat,
Arab on Radar,
Joe Smooth,
Cymande,
Lindisfarne,
Sixth Finger,
June Days,
Pole,
U.S. Maple,
E-Dancer,
The Searchers,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Anakelly,
Archie Shepp,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Names,
Surgeon,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Dawn Penn,
the Bar-Kays,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers.
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.