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 Italy and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 Sao Paulo and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Sparks to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Cymande. All the underground hits.
All Blake Baxter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Foxx record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Maleditus Sound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brass Construction,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Black Pus,
Simply Red,
Morten Harket,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Durutti Column,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Angels of Light,
The Stooges,
Howard Jones,
June Days,
Thee Headcoats,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Judy Mowatt,
Carl Craig,
Rakim,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Golliwogs,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Jeff Lynne,
Urselle,
the Normal,
Tommy Roe,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Interpol,
Gerry Rafferty,
Sex Pistols,
Marvin Gaye,
Television,
Reuben Wilson,
Brick,
Saccharine Trust,
Rotary Connection,
Gil Scott Heron,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Mission of Burma,
Radiopuhelimet,
Lungfish,
Sam Rivers,
Underground Resistance,
Zapp,
Au Pairs,
the Fania All-Stars,
Moss Icon,
London Community Gospel Choir,
kango's stein massive,
Bootsy Collins,
Loose Ends,
Arthur Verocai,
Sixth Finger,
UT,
Pussy Galore,
the Human League,
E-Dancer,
Barclay James Harvest,
Japan,
Patti Smith,
Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood.
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.