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 Grenada and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 Black Sheep to the punk 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 Cheater Slicks. All the underground hits.
All The Chocolate Watch Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minnie Riperton record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soul Sonic Force record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Cymande,
Lalann,
Marvin Gaye,
Delon & Dalcan,
Electric Prunes,
Suburban Knight,
The Alarm Clocks,
Jeru the Damaja,
Mr. Review,
Rites of Spring,
Donny Hathaway,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Absolute Body Control,
Rufus Thomas,
A Certain Ratio,
Donald Byrd,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Camouflage,
Matthew Bourne,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Brick,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Magazine,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Bizarre Inc.,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Black Dice,
David Bowie,
The Remains,
Al Stewart,
KRS-One,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Misunderstood,
Graham Central Station,
Minor Threat,
Delta 5,
Ohio Players,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Niagra,
Davy DMX,
The Young Rascals,
Sunsets and Hearts,
L. Decosne,
The Seeds,
Deadbeat,
Ponytail,
Wings,
Tim Buckley,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Intrusion,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Spoonie Gee,
Unwound,
Joey Negro,
Tom Boy,
Blancmange, Blancmange, Blancmange, Blancmange.
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.