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 Portugal and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Kinks to the dance 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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All The Slackers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fire Engines 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 a marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cramps record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joe Finger,
The Star Department,
Can,
Los Fastidios,
The Wake,
10cc,
Roger Hodgson,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
X-101,
Moss Icon,
Nirvana,
Suburban Knight,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Bobby Byrd,
Sarah Menescal,
The Associates,
John Coltrane,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Kinks,
Eve St. Jones,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Skriet,
Frankie Knuckles,
Average White Band,
In Retrospect,
Eric B and Rakim,
Fat Boys,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Angry Samoans,
Underground Resistance,
Excepter,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The United States of America,
The Happenings,
Curtis Mayfield,
Susan Cadogan,
The Searchers,
Groovy Waters,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
World's Most,
Harpers Bizarre,
Barrington Levy,
Khruangbin,
Ohio Players,
Harmonia,
Boz Scaggs,
John Holt,
Steve Hackett,
Stockholm Monsters,
Althea and Donna,
Soulsonic Force,
Clear Light,
Freddie Wadling,
the Normal,
Sound Behaviour,
Public Image Ltd.,
Bill Near,
Saccharine Trust,
Gerry Rafferty, Gerry Rafferty, Gerry Rafferty, Gerry Rafferty.
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.