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 Cape Verde and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 oboe 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 Liaisons Dangereuses to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cheater Slicks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 guitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mighty Diamonds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Selecter,
Roger Hodgson,
Juan Atkins,
Masters at Work,
Laurel Aitken,
T. Rex,
Khruangbin,
Kas Product,
The Gladiators,
Saccharine Trust,
A Flock of Seagulls,
June Days,
Kevin Saunderson,
Althea and Donna,
Wally Richardson,
The J.B.'s,
Niagra,
Joensuu 1685,
kango's stein massive,
John Cale,
Robert Görl,
Franke,
The Walker Brothers,
Henry Cow,
Talk Talk,
Sister Nancy,
Lebanon Hanover,
Sugar Minott,
Dual Sessions,
Urselle,
Spandau Ballet,
Throbbing Gristle,
Wolf Eyes,
Y Pants,
Fela Kuti,
Davy DMX,
Thompson Twins,
Howard Jones,
Fad Gadget,
Dark Day,
The Human League,
Black Bananas,
The Toasters,
The Cure,
Sex Pistols,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Scientists,
Panda Bear,
8 Eyed Spy,
Bobbi Humphrey,
John Coltrane,
KRS-One,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Scrapy,
Quadrant,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Cluster,
Jacob Miller,
Adolescents,
These Immortal Souls,
Judy Mowatt,
The Standells, The Standells, The Standells, The Standells.
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.