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 Equatorial Guinea and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 sitar 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 Golliwogs to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Real Kids. All the underground hits.
All Ohio Players tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mandrill record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Art Ensemble Of Chicago record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare 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 Fugs,
Wire,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Moody Blues,
Laurel Aitken,
Spandau Ballet,
Roy Ayers,
The Modern Lovers,
Neu!,
Sound Behaviour,
Shoche,
Soulsonic Force,
Circle Jerks,
Gabor Szabo,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Cowsills,
Quantec,
Bronski Beat,
F. McDonald,
Hardrive,
Television,
Pantaleimon,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Mantronix,
B.T. Express,
Rufus Thomas,
Tears for Fears,
Skarface,
Au Pairs,
Kool Moe Dee,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Tres Demented,
Cluster,
Black Sheep,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Scan 7,
AZ,
ABBA,
Minnie Riperton,
Slick Rick,
JFA,
Lightning Bolt,
Amon Düül,
Tubeway Army,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Surgeon,
Joey Negro,
10cc,
Sällskapet,
The Gun Club,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Oneida,
The Neon Judgement,
KRS-One,
Isaac Hayes,
Depeche Mode,
Soft Cell,
Charles Mingus,
Darondo,
Gong, Gong, Gong, Gong.
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.