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 San Marino and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 Cairo and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 güiro 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 Tres Demented to the rock 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 Brand Nubian. All the underground hits.
All The Saints tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Banda Bassotti record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cal Tjader record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alice Coltrane,
The Victims,
Sixth Finger,
The Durutti Column,
This Heat,
Livin' Joy,
Slave,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Sonny Sharrock,
Dawn Penn,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Arab on Radar,
Model 500,
the Association,
Marvin Gaye,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Terry Callier,
the Sonics,
The Misunderstood,
Loose Ends,
the Bar-Kays,
Pagans,
The Raincoats,
Fear,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
EPMD,
Average White Band,
Lungfish,
Dennis Brown,
Bizarre Inc.,
Ituana,
Arthur Verocai,
The Litter,
Moby Grape,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Move,
Roxette,
Aloha Tigers,
D'Angelo,
Absolute Body Control,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Television,
Underground Resistance,
the Fania All-Stars,
Jesper Dahlback,
Ponytail,
Grauzone,
Sister Nancy,
Harry Pussy,
Black Pus,
Matthew Bourne,
Lou Christie,
Qualms,
Gang Green,
Minor Threat,
Eddi Front,
Josef K,
Blancmange,
MC5,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.