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 Korea North and from Accra.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Edmonton.
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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the sitar 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 Slick Rick to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Freddie Wadling. All the underground hits.
All The Index tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Agent Orange record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rekid record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ 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?
The Selecter,
Eric Copeland,
The Slackers,
Eric B and Rakim,
Ultra Naté,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Real Kids,
Arthur Verocai,
Al Stewart,
The Music Machine,
Quantec,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Sound Behaviour,
Technova,
Erasure,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
CMW,
Television Personalities,
Black Moon,
Arab on Radar,
The Monks,
LL Cool J,
Wolf Eyes,
Joe Finger,
Sun City Girls,
Ultimate Spinach,
Suburban Knight,
Sam Rivers,
Kerrie Biddell,
Livin' Joy,
Stereo Dub,
The Offenders,
Soft Cell,
The Electric Prunes,
Nick Fraelich,
Gerry Rafferty,
Todd Terry,
Japan,
Sällskapet,
Wally Richardson,
Erykah Badu,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Surgeon,
Prince Buster,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
the Bar-Kays,
Jeff Lynne,
Avey Tare,
Sugar Minott,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Index,
Stetsasonic,
The Busters,
Ponytail,
Masters at Work,
The Young Rascals,
Junior Murvin,
Marvin Gaye,
Cymande,
Kenny Larkin,
MC5, MC5, MC5, MC5.
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.