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 Thailand and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Lagos.
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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Theoretical Girls to the funk 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 Cowsills. All the underground hits.
All Roy Ayers Ubiquity tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Black Dice record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nik Kershaw 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?
Loose Ends,
Ituana,
Lower 48,
Hashim,
New Order,
The Monks,
David Axelrod,
The Tremeloes,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Mojo Men,
Pantytec,
Gang Green,
Cybotron,
Harry Pussy,
Vladislav Delay,
Easy Going,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Gun Club,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Kerri Chandler,
The Saints,
Half Japanese,
X-102,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Throbbing Gristle,
Josef K,
Rufus Thomas,
Peter & Gordon,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Velvet Underground,
The Move,
The Trojans,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Pharoah Sanders,
Roy Ayers,
Rites of Spring,
Susan Cadogan,
Arthur Verocai,
Little Man,
Neu!,
The Residents,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Neon Judgement,
Man Parrish,
The Mummies,
Nirvana,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Byron Stingily,
Roxy Music,
Crooked Eye,
Terry Callier,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The J.B.'s,
Juan Atkins,
The Fall,
Nik Kershaw,
The Wake,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Avey Tare,
Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes.
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.