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 Czech Republic and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the guitar 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 Jeru the Damaja to the jazz 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 The Durutti Column. All the underground hits.
All Mary Jane Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Con Funk Shun record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultravox record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Colin Newman,
Sandy B,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
World's Most,
Rapeman,
Dual Sessions,
DJ Style,
Goldenarms,
Sällskapet,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Slave,
Alice Coltrane,
Soulsonic Force,
Mr. Review,
Rekid,
Subhumans,
Simply Red,
Average White Band,
The Grass Roots,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Gang of Four,
FM Einheit,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Davy DMX,
The Detroit Cobras,
Roxette,
The Black Dice,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Monochrome Set,
Flipper,
Kurtis Blow,
JFA,
Moby Grape,
Barclay James Harvest,
Letta Mbulu,
Chris & Cosey,
Wire,
Make Up,
James White and The Blacks,
The Martian,
Thee Headcoats,
Index,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Gladiators,
Jeru the Damaja,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Leonard Cohen,
Cal Tjader,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Toasters,
Duran Duran,
Wasted Youth,
The Zeros,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Alarm Clocks,
The New Christs,
Gong,
The Cowsills,
The Evens,
Khruangbin,
Rufus Thomas,
The Move,
Angry Samoans,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr.
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.