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 Suriname and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 Tokyo and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the marimba 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 Tears for Fears to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Mary Jane Girls. All the underground hits.
All The Count Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Last Poets record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Beau Brummels record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The J.B.'s,
Amon Düül II,
Intrusion,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Barclay James Harvest,
Frankie Knuckles,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Searchers,
FM Einheit,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Niagra,
Cabaret Voltaire,
the Germs,
Con Funk Shun,
The Angels of Light,
Marine Girls,
Hardrive,
Bootsy Collins,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Duran Duran,
Supertramp,
Panda Bear,
John Holt,
Dorothy Ashby,
Echospace,
Max Romeo,
Cybotron,
Boz Scaggs,
Model 500,
Deadbeat,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Harry Pussy,
Cecil Taylor,
Sam Rivers,
Saccharine Trust,
Nik Kershaw,
Donald Byrd,
The Fortunes,
Joe Smooth,
The Count Five,
Skarface,
cv313,
Quando Quango,
Parry Music,
Scan 7,
Traffic Nightmare,
Alton Ellis,
Amazonics,
the Swans,
Accadde A,
Young Marble Giants,
Andrew Hill,
Sun City Girls,
Neu!,
The Black Dice,
Massinfluence,
Pulsallama,
MDC,
Freddie Wadling,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Roger Hodgson,
Thee Headcoats,
Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose.
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.