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 Algeria and from Milan.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Blake Baxter 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 Supertramp. All the underground hits.
All Little Man tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Electric Prunes 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 rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cymande record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masters at Work,
Wally Richardson,
Talk Talk,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Dead Boys,
Agent Orange,
Henry Cow,
Warsaw,
Ituana,
Al Stewart,
Minor Threat,
Blake Baxter,
The Moody Blues,
Bush Tetras,
Brothers Johnson,
Negative Approach,
Qualms,
Boz Scaggs,
Joy Division,
The Mojo Men,
The Star Department,
Kerrie Biddell,
Danielle Patucci,
The Remains,
The Cure,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Rakim,
Kayak,
10cc,
Don Cherry,
Michelle Simonal,
Khruangbin,
Joe Smooth,
Steve Hackett,
Electric Prunes,
Mo-Dettes,
The Real Kids,
Derrick May,
Cheater Slicks,
Excepter,
Ohio Players,
The Residents,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Eli Mardock,
The Blackbyrds,
The Blues Magoos,
Joyce Sims,
Matthew Bourne,
Soul Sonic Force,
Barrington Levy,
The Pretty Things,
Rosa Yemen,
Pulsallama,
Wolf Eyes,
Scrapy,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Albert Ayler,
the Slits,
Marshall Jefferson,
Slave, Slave, Slave, Slave.
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.