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 Egypt and from Woodstock.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Cairo.
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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the theremin 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 10cc to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark. All the underground hits.
All Toni Rubio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eddi Front record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 theremin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang of Four record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Byrd,
Ronnie Foster,
The Electric Prunes,
Prince Buster,
Arab on Radar,
A Flock of Seagulls,
OOIOO,
Kevin Saunderson,
Bronski Beat,
Zapp,
Rod Modell,
Derrick Morgan,
Black Bananas,
EPMD,
UT,
Scan 7,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
This Heat,
Television,
Cybotron,
The Fugs,
Warsaw,
Monolake,
Tropical Tobacco,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Joey Negro,
MC5,
The Associates,
AZ,
Trumans Water,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Golliwogs,
Ludus,
Motorama,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Groovy Waters,
Suburban Knight,
Ornette Coleman,
The Evens,
Neil Young,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Slits,
Arthur Verocai,
Tubeway Army,
Boredoms,
T. Rex,
Circle Jerks,
Dorothy Ashby,
Josef K,
PIL,
The Cure,
Harry Pussy,
Fatback Band,
Yazoo,
Anakelly,
Jesper Dahlback,
Chris Corsano,
Amazonics,
Reagan Youth,
The Gories,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood.
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.