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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 Mumbai and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Last Poets to the punk 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 Neil Young. All the underground hits.
All Kenny Larkin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Blues Magoos record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
Warsaw,
Magma,
Gregory Isaacs,
Cameo,
The Offenders,
Reuben Wilson,
Das Ding,
Tomorrow,
China Crisis,
Prince Buster,
The Fuzztones,
Second Layer,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Marc Almond,
The Music Machine,
Suburban Knight,
Henry Cow,
Derrick Morgan,
Ronan,
Grandmaster Flash,
Brick,
Lyres,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Todd Rundgren,
Lalann,
John Coltrane,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Mummies,
Black Moon,
Fatback Band,
a-ha,
Marshall Jefferson,
Ronnie Foster,
Minutemen,
Al Stewart,
Can,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Eve St. Jones,
Blake Baxter,
Tommy Roe,
R.M.O.,
Piero Umiliani,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Newcleus,
Judy Mowatt,
Jacob Miller,
The Litter,
Barry Ungar,
Spandau Ballet,
The Knickerbockers,
Main Source,
Steve Hackett,
In Retrospect,
Dave Gahan,
Agitation Free,
DJ Sneak,
Anthony Braxton,
Dual Sessions,
Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs.
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.