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 Senegal and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Iggy Pop to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Procol Harum. All the underground hits.
All Babytalk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boredoms record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ajijia Myrayebe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terry Callier,
Mo-Dettes,
F. McDonald,
Curtis Mayfield,
Joy Division,
The Techniques,
Chris Corsano,
Angry Samoans,
Sixth Finger,
The Mummies,
Laurel Aitken,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Doors,
Donald Byrd,
Bob Dylan,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Moody Blues,
Fat Boys,
Max Romeo,
Whodini,
Faust,
Mary Jane Girls,
Jerry's Kids,
Glambeats Corp.,
Adolescents,
Qualms,
David Axelrod,
Eddi Front,
Heaven 17,
Colin Newman,
Bang On A Can,
Slave,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Radiopuhelimet,
Mandrill,
Jesper Dahlback,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Popol Vuh,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Babytalk,
Scott Walker,
Sarah Menescal,
LL Cool J,
Stereo Dub,
Fatback Band,
Duran Duran,
Public Image Ltd.,
Albert Ayler,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
X-102,
Schoolly D,
Quadrant,
Suicide,
Guru Guru,
Andrew Hill,
Roxy Music,
Jeff Lynne,
Marcia Griffiths,
Gang Green,
Peter & Gordon,
Junior Murvin,
Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!.
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.