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 Montenegro and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the güiro 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 The Dirtbombs to the disco 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 Mandrill. All the underground hits.
All N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Mummies record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 guitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Simply Red record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Moleskins,
Traffic Nightmare,
Rekid,
Mandrill,
X-Ray Spex,
Judy Mowatt,
Harry Pussy,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Scion,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Fugazi,
Angry Samoans,
The Standells,
Flamin' Groovies,
Lungfish,
the Association,
Skriet,
Sandy B,
The Litter,
The Divine Comedy,
Jacques Brel,
The Last Poets,
E-Dancer,
New Order,
FM Einheit,
EPMD,
The Real Kids,
Joyce Sims,
Unrelated Segments,
World's Most,
Ornette Coleman,
Scan 7,
The Slackers,
Lou Reed,
Niagra,
a-ha,
Hoover,
Television,
The Birthday Party,
Saccharine Trust,
Nirvana,
The Invisible,
Susan Cadogan,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Massinfluence,
The Beau Brummels,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Fire Engines,
The Selecter,
Radiopuhelimet,
Morten Harket,
Connie Case,
Sam Rivers,
Suicide,
Pulsallama,
Black Bananas,
OOIOO,
Sly & The Family Stone,
F. McDonald,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Graham Central Station,
The Moody Blues,
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.