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 Latvia and from Sao Paulo.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Crispian St. Peters to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell. All the underground hits.
All Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Seeds 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 güiro and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Hood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jimmy McGriff,
Pussy Galore,
Underground Resistance,
Schoolly D,
AZ,
The Barracudas,
Black Pus,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Alice Coltrane,
Scott Walker,
Gang of Four,
Throbbing Gristle,
Skarface,
The New Christs,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Soul Sonic Force,
Little Man,
X-Ray Spex,
Chris Corsano,
Crispy Ambulance,
Man Eating Sloth,
Roxy Music,
Shoche,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Tomorrow,
Unrelated Segments,
The Blues Magoos,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Vladislav Delay,
Arthur Verocai,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Grandmaster Flash,
Half Japanese,
Peter and Kerry,
Pole,
Alison Limerick,
Cal Tjader,
Radio Birdman,
Ultravox,
Fluxion,
Jacques Brel,
The Cramps,
Kayak,
Josef K,
Reuben Wilson,
D'Angelo,
Symarip,
Bang On A Can,
kango's stein massive,
Rakim,
Rapeman,
Barrington Levy,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Dorothy Ashby,
Roxette,
The Red Krayola,
The Moody Blues,
Eddi Front,
Kaleidoscope,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Crash Course in Science,
Au Pairs,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators.
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.