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 Tuvalu and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
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 Oppenheimer Analysis to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Severed Heads. All the underground hits.
All James White and The Blacks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Johnny Clarke 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sandy B record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
David Axelrod,
Organ,
The Modern Lovers,
The Slackers,
Joyce Sims,
Steve Hackett,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Motorama,
Con Funk Shun,
The Mummies,
Sparks,
The Flesh Eaters,
Darondo,
Pulsallama,
Model 500,
Stiv Bators,
Max Romeo,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Wake,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Frankie Knuckles,
Nick Fraelich,
Blake Baxter,
Whodini,
Quando Quango,
Marc Almond,
Lou Christie,
Soul Sonic Force,
Roy Ayers,
Bang On A Can,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
In Retrospect,
Underground Resistance,
Saccharine Trust,
Ornette Coleman,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Moody Blues,
the Association,
the Normal,
Kerrie Biddell,
PIL,
Jeru the Damaja,
Banda Bassotti,
Sight & Sound,
Toni Rubio,
Dual Sessions,
The Martian,
Index,
Stetsasonic,
The Motions,
Morten Harket,
Heaven 17,
Malaria!,
Sun City Girls,
Mr. Review,
AZ,
Simply Red,
Black Pus,
Nas,
The Selecter,
Adolescents, Adolescents, Adolescents, Adolescents.
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.