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 Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Kenny Larkin 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 Nation of Ulysses. All the underground hits.
All The Associates tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Selector Dub Narcotic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scientists record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Flamin' Groovies,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Doors,
Spandau Ballet,
The Raincoats,
Sixth Finger,
Freddie Wadling,
Angry Samoans,
The Dave Clark Five,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Gladiators,
Deepchord,
Goldenarms,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Harpers Bizarre,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Cal Tjader,
DNA,
Eurythmics,
Robert Wyatt,
Faraquet,
Steve Hackett,
Icehouse,
Junior Murvin,
Barbara Tucker,
The Index,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Evens,
the Normal,
The Selecter,
Gang of Four,
48th St. Collective,
Television,
Monks,
Ornette Coleman,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Jeru the Damaja,
F. McDonald,
Matthew Halsall,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Tears for Fears,
Erykah Badu,
Robert Görl,
The Divine Comedy,
Can,
Oneida,
The Slits,
Hoover,
The Searchers,
The Techniques,
Man Eating Sloth,
Surgeon,
Guru Guru,
Crash Course in Science,
Mission of Burma,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Masters at Work,
Nirvana,
Model 500,
Trumans Water,
Moebius,
Harmonia, Harmonia, Harmonia, Harmonia.
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.