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 Malaysia 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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Beijing.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Electric Prunes to the rap 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 The Wake. All the underground hits.
All Babytalk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scion 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fugs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cure,
The Gladiators,
U.S. Maple,
Qualms,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Country Joe & The Fish,
L. Decosne,
Lalann,
Leonard Cohen,
Whodini,
MC5,
Wolf Eyes,
Schoolly D,
Harpers Bizarre,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
The Standells,
Big Daddy Kane,
Neil Young,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Surgeon,
Cheater Slicks,
Joe Smooth,
the Fania All-Stars,
Cameo,
Main Source,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Saccharine Trust,
Talk Talk,
The Modern Lovers,
Depeche Mode,
Hardrive,
Lalo Schifrin,
Public Image Ltd.,
Jeff Lynne,
David Bowie,
Prince Buster,
Gang of Four,
Crispian St. Peters,
Joy Division,
The Detroit Cobras,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Mr. Review,
Glenn Branca,
The Gories,
Donald Byrd,
Model 500,
Spoonie Gee,
Index,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Moby Grape,
Sonny Sharrock,
Jandek,
Make Up,
Sällskapet,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Minutemen,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Das Ding,
Derrick May,
Pantytec,
Gregory Isaacs,
Gichy Dan,
Intrusion, Intrusion, Intrusion, Intrusion.
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.