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 Malta and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Notorious Big And Bone Thugs to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Motorama. All the underground hits.
All Zapp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every cv313 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Electric Prunes,
Rod Modell,
Fear,
Pussy Galore,
Motorama,
Shuggie Otis,
Graham Central Station,
Deakin,
Neu!,
Robert Wyatt,
ABC,
Ituana,
Oblivians,
The Cure,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Bootsy Collins,
Warren Ellis,
Alphaville,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Sandy B,
Wings,
The Martian,
China Crisis,
Joe Finger,
Eli Mardock,
James White and The Blacks,
Nirvana,
Rotary Connection,
Mandrill,
Hardrive,
Bob Dylan,
Ohio Players,
Ultravox,
Roxette,
The Dave Clark Five,
Roy Ayers,
Blake Baxter,
Gregory Isaacs,
Moebius,
Aswad,
Rosa Yemen,
Ken Boothe,
Sarah Menescal,
Crispian St. Peters,
Malaria!,
The Raincoats,
L. Decosne,
Altered Images,
Lindisfarne,
Skarface,
Panda Bear,
Joey Negro,
Traffic Nightmare,
Slick Rick,
Nico,
Pet Shop Boys,
Brothers Johnson,
Robert Hood,
Bill Near,
a-ha,
Erasure,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo.
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.