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 Norway and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 Robert Palmer 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 Brothers Johnson to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 a-ha. All the underground hits.
All The J.B.'s tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New York Dolls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Big Daddy Kane,
The Busters,
Kerrie Biddell,
Sun City Girls,
Radio Birdman,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Schoolly D,
Popol Vuh,
the Germs,
JFA,
Jacob Miller,
Eve St. Jones,
Bobby Sherman,
Isaac Hayes,
Flipper,
Roger Hodgson,
Stereo Dub,
The Neon Judgement,
The Seeds,
Moebius,
Soulsonic Force,
Scion,
Pole,
The Smiths,
Sexual Harrassment,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Beau Brummels,
Black Bananas,
Byron Stingily,
Soft Machine,
Loose Ends,
These Immortal Souls,
Second Layer,
Hashim,
The Misunderstood,
Sällskapet,
Albert Ayler,
Aural Exciters,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Main Source,
Jerry Gold Smith,
China Crisis,
Bob Dylan,
Young Marble Giants,
Masters at Work,
Cluster,
Swell Maps,
Peter & Gordon,
Severed Heads,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Little Man,
John Cale,
Motorama,
Faust,
The Gladiators,
New York Dolls,
Von Mondo,
D'Angelo,
The Happenings,
K-Klass,
Scientists, Scientists, Scientists, Scientists.
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.