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 Barbados and from Copenhagen.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 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 Alice Coltrane to the dance 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 Cal Tjader. All the underground hits.
All Lindisfarne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Erykah Badu 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 a mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minnie Riperton record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soul Sonic Force,
The Invisible,
Funky Four + One,
Hoover,
K-Klass,
Kenny Larkin,
Little Man,
Duran Duran,
The Dead C,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Suicide,
Black Sheep,
Gang Starr,
Marmalade,
The Move,
Whodini,
Mark Hollis,
Bootsy Collins,
Lyres,
Public Image Ltd.,
Altered Images,
Trumans Water,
Sarah Menescal,
Skaos,
Chrome,
Big Daddy Kane,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Kayak,
Wire,
Flamin' Groovies,
Suburban Knight,
Vainqueur,
La Düsseldorf,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Pop Group,
MC5,
Livin' Joy,
Arcadia,
The Selecter,
The Motions,
The Raincoats,
Maurizio,
Q65,
Marc Almond,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Slackers,
Sam Rivers,
Dead Boys,
DJ Sneak,
The Mummies,
Buzzcocks,
Robert Görl,
Sex Pistols,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Standells,
New York Dolls,
Jacob Miller,
The Pretty Things,
Laurel Aitken,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Isaac Hayes,
Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon.
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.