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 Belgium and from Lagos.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the sitar 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 Masters at Work to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 The Smiths. All the underground hits.
All Nico tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 a güiro and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fela Kuti,
Terry Callier,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Detroit Cobras,
Jeff Lynne,
Smog,
OOIOO,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Panda Bear,
Pantytec,
World's Most,
Talk Talk,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Khruangbin,
Radio Birdman,
Gabor Szabo,
Oblivians,
The Victims,
Frankie Knuckles,
Jacques Brel,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Henry Cow,
Bauhaus,
David McCallum,
Soul II Soul,
Curtis Mayfield,
Wire,
Basic Channel,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Donald Byrd,
The Sonics,
Erykah Badu,
Circle Jerks,
Lyres,
Massinfluence,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Icehouse,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Leonard Cohen,
R.M.O.,
KRS-One,
China Crisis,
Man Parrish,
The Gladiators,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Divine Comedy,
Flash Fearless,
Eli Mardock,
The Skatalites,
Make Up,
Gastr Del Sol,
Roxette,
Echospace,
Junior Murvin,
Stereo Dub,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Robert Wyatt,
Maleditus Sound,
Swans,
Derrick May,
June of 44, June of 44, June of 44, June of 44.
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.