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 Suriname and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 Scion to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Peanut Butter Conspiracy. All the underground hits.
All Sparks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Archie Shepp record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fela Kuti,
The Monks,
Roger Hodgson,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Smoke,
The Durutti Column,
Graham Central Station,
Man Eating Sloth,
Blake Baxter,
Scott Walker,
Jesper Dahlback,
Unrelated Segments,
Ornette Coleman,
Mary Jane Girls,
Rosa Yemen,
The Velvet Underground,
Alphaville,
David Axelrod,
Avey Tare,
The Barracudas,
Gabor Szabo,
Suicide,
Schoolly D,
Bootsy Collins,
Mantronix,
Radiopuhelimet,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Nils Olav,
Harpers Bizarre,
Funkadelic,
Dual Sessions,
Blancmange,
Pierre Henry,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Cybotron,
Black Moon,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Traffic Nightmare,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Mummies,
Deepchord,
Jeru the Damaja,
Radiohead,
Popol Vuh,
Eric B and Rakim,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Stiv Bators,
Television,
Vladislav Delay,
Aloha Tigers,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Invisible,
Smog,
Main Source,
Pussy Galore,
The Dead C,
Japan,
Sex Pistols,
Pantaleimon,
Silicon Teens,
Michelle Simonal,
The Neon Judgement, The Neon Judgement, The Neon Judgement, The Neon Judgement.
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.