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 Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the linndrum 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 The Slits to the grime 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 Tomorrow. All the underground hits.
All The Fortunes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Kinks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 spring reverb and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Al Stewart record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Young Marble Giants,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
DJ Sneak,
James White and The Blacks,
Fear,
Sex Pistols,
The Monks,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Tomorrow,
Unwound,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Techniques,
Gichy Dan,
Dorothy Ashby,
T. Rex,
Ice-T,
Ornette Coleman,
The Litter,
Harry Pussy,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Birthday Party,
Von Mondo,
The Flesh Eaters,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
David Axelrod,
The Neon Judgement,
Lou Christie,
L. Decosne,
Terry Callier,
Neu!,
Los Fastidios,
Scott Walker,
Byron Stingily,
The Fall,
The Residents,
The Move,
Ultra Naté,
Quantec,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Mantronix,
The Gap Band,
Don Cherry,
Davy DMX,
Stockholm Monsters,
Talk Talk,
Pulsallama,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Durutti Column,
Wasted Youth,
Crispian St. Peters,
Television,
Alison Limerick,
Mad Mike,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Donny Hathaway,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Busters,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Essential Logic,
Sun Ra Arkestra, Sun Ra Arkestra, Sun Ra Arkestra, Sun Ra Arkestra.
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.