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 Beijing.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 synthesizer 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 The Doobie Brothers to the grunge 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 Eric Copeland. All the underground hits.
All Rahsaan Roland Kirk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soul Sonic Force 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gabor Szabo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marine Girls,
48th St. Collective,
Mark Hollis,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Glambeats Corp.,
Con Funk Shun,
Index,
Gerry Rafferty,
Excepter,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Sexual Harrassment,
David McCallum,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Traffic Nightmare,
Sister Nancy,
Pagans,
DJ Style,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Stockholm Monsters,
Radio Birdman,
Mandrill,
David Bowie,
Camouflage,
The Cowsills,
Matthew Halsall,
The Doors,
Organ,
The Fall,
Fear,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Unwound,
Pet Shop Boys,
Spoonie Gee,
Grandmaster Flash,
Boz Scaggs,
The Selecter,
Zapp,
Pulsallama,
Jawbox,
Darondo,
Cluster,
Thompson Twins,
Jacob Miller,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Howard Jones,
Vladislav Delay,
Roy Ayers,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
This Heat,
Neil Young,
Joe Smooth,
Quando Quango,
Hardrive,
The Misunderstood,
Neu!,
Bobby Womack,
Soul II Soul,
Technova,
The Vogues, The Vogues, The Vogues, The Vogues.
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.