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 Ecuador and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Jeru the Damaja to the dance 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 Sällskapet. All the underground hits.
All Barrington Levy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Desert Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Massinfluence,
Marshall Jefferson,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Johnny Clarke,
the Normal,
Rites of Spring,
Gil Scott Heron,
Pharoah Sanders,
Boogie Down Productions,
Ohio Players,
Crispian St. Peters,
Roxy Music,
The Human League,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Easy Going,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Robert Görl,
Mo-Dettes,
John Foxx,
Al Stewart,
Minny Pops,
The Angels of Light,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Electric Prunes,
In Retrospect,
kango's stein massive,
Jacques Brel,
The Shadows of Knight,
Dawn Penn,
The Standells,
Depeche Mode,
the Bar-Kays,
Arthur Verocai,
Buzzcocks,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Crispy Ambulance,
Pagans,
Joensuu 1685,
Stiv Bators,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
June of 44,
Tears for Fears,
Gang of Four,
Royal Trux,
The Leaves,
Organ,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Urselle,
Glambeats Corp.,
Radio Birdman,
Jerry Gold Smith,
A Certain Ratio,
David McCallum,
Donny Hathaway,
Kool Moe Dee,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Metal Thangz,
John Coltrane,
Schoolly D,
The Happenings,
Yaz,
Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett.
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.