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 Swaziland and from London.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Al Stewart to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks. All the underground hits.
All Qualms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crooked Eye record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a June of 44 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suburban Knight,
Sex Pistols,
Youth Brigade,
Freddie Wadling,
The Real Kids,
Piero Umiliani,
Deakin,
Minnie Riperton,
Average White Band,
Man Eating Sloth,
Marc Almond,
Radiopuhelimet,
Althea and Donna,
Aural Exciters,
The Velvet Underground,
Ultra Naté,
Reuben Wilson,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Mark Hollis,
These Immortal Souls,
Sixth Finger,
Deadbeat,
Glambeats Corp.,
Eli Mardock,
Eddi Front,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Parry Music,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Hot Snakes,
Beasts of Bourbon,
AZ,
Barry Ungar,
Don Cherry,
Minny Pops,
Quantec,
David Bowie,
Rufus Thomas,
Cymande,
Marine Girls,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Black Moon,
Saccharine Trust,
Marcia Griffiths,
Lalo Schifrin,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Masters at Work,
Colin Newman,
Thee Headcoats,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Roy Ayers,
Lebanon Hanover,
JFA,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Carl Craig,
Urselle,
the Sonics,
Swans, Swans, Swans, Swans.
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.