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 Vanuatu and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Nils Olav to the crunk 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 Jacques Brel. All the underground hits.
All Malaria! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mr. Review record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DJ Style record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
H. Thieme,
Ken Boothe,
The Residents,
Anthony Braxton,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Monochrome Set,
Rotary Connection,
Groovy Waters,
Boz Scaggs,
Eric B and Rakim,
Audionom,
Vainqueur,
The Blackbyrds,
The Names,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Crooked Eye,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Motions,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Buckinghams,
Ossler,
ABC,
Trumans Water,
Lungfish,
D'Angelo,
Bobby Womack,
Girls At Our Best!,
the Soft Cell,
Outsiders,
Sugar Minott,
Urselle,
The New Christs,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
David McCallum,
Simply Red,
Skarface,
Barclay James Harvest,
Rufus Thomas,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Grass Roots,
Joe Finger,
K-Klass,
Terry Callier,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Rosa Yemen,
Skaos,
Davy DMX,
Arthur Verocai,
Bobby Byrd,
Joyce Sims,
Avey Tare,
Tim Buckley,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Banda Bassotti,
FM Einheit,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Subhumans,
Bobby Sherman,
Roy Ayers,
Cameo,
The Black Dice,
The Toasters,
The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola.
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.