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 Eritrea and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Roy Ayers to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Johnny Clarke. All the underground hits.
All Skarface 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 jazz 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 harpsichord and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wally Richardson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Judy Mowatt,
The Cowsills,
Ronan,
Whodini,
Simply Red,
Bobby Byrd,
Duran Duran,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Ralphi Rosario,
Agitation Free,
Bluetip,
Pylon,
Crooked Eye,
The Modern Lovers,
The Dead C,
Joyce Sims,
Schoolly D,
Marc Almond,
The Grass Roots,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Eddi Front,
Adolescents,
Porter Ricks,
World's Most,
Sixth Finger,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Cheater Slicks,
Supertramp,
Stereo Dub,
Ultravox,
Arab on Radar,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Siglo XX,
Fad Gadget,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Derrick Morgan,
Pharoah Sanders,
Alice Coltrane,
Oblivians,
Barry Ungar,
The Fortunes,
Eric Dolphy,
The Pretty Things,
Rekid,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Bad Manners,
Cluster,
Electric Prunes,
Funkadelic,
Gregory Isaacs,
Gichy Dan,
Byron Stingily,
Royal Trux,
Jerry's Kids,
Blossom Toes,
Angry Samoans,
Y Pants,
Letta Mbulu,
The Barracudas,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Marine Girls,
Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B.
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.