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 Marshall Islands and from Beijing.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the sitar 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 Jeru the Damaja to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog. All the underground hits.
All Fad Gadget tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camouflage record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a World's Most record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dead Boys,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Maleditus Sound,
Blake Baxter,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Durutti Column,
The Mummies,
Tears for Fears,
The Shadows of Knight,
Y Pants,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Magazine,
Ituana,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Techniques,
Eric Copeland,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
EPMD,
Gregory Isaacs,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Doors,
Donald Byrd,
Groovy Waters,
DNA,
B.T. Express,
Ten City,
Dave Gahan,
Interpol,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Black Moon,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Slick Rick,
Johnny Clarke,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Monks,
Nils Olav,
Barry Ungar,
Cheater Slicks,
Nik Kershaw,
Delon & Dalcan,
Television,
These Immortal Souls,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Gang Starr,
Bill Wells,
Oneida,
Crash Course in Science,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Harry Pussy,
Harpers Bizarre,
Los Fastidios,
Black Bananas,
The Music Machine,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Infiniti,
The Cowsills,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Shuggie Otis,
Grauzone,
Alton Ellis,
Howard Jones, Howard Jones, Howard Jones, Howard Jones.
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.