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 Tajikistan and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Angels of Light & Akron/Family 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 Fat Boys. All the underground hits.
All The Kinks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dave Clark Five record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Almond record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Reuben Wilson,
Letta Mbulu,
Erykah Badu,
Kayak,
The Red Krayola,
The New Christs,
Ultimate Spinach,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Count Five,
Roger Hodgson,
Bauhaus,
Gong,
Maurizio,
Bang On A Can,
Blancmange,
Dawn Penn,
Robert Wyatt,
Aaron Thompson,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Lindisfarne,
Blossom Toes,
The Knickerbockers,
Audionom,
Jerry's Kids,
Blake Baxter,
Ossler,
Glenn Branca,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Young Rascals,
KRS-One,
Judy Mowatt,
Warren Ellis,
Banda Bassotti,
The Sound,
Ice-T,
Alice Coltrane,
Jeff Lynne,
Minutemen,
L. Decosne,
Gastr Del Sol,
Max Romeo,
Y Pants,
Guru Guru,
Main Source,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Al Stewart,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Sister Nancy,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
cv313,
The Index,
Liliput,
Angry Samoans,
Sound Behaviour,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Shadows of Knight,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Desert Stars,
Sun City Girls,
Los Fastidios,
Public Enemy,
Davy DMX, Davy DMX, Davy DMX, Davy DMX.
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.