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 Guatemala and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Woodstock.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the 808 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 Aural Exciters to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 J.B.'s. All the underground hits.
All L. Decosne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Letta Mbulu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slick Rick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faust,
48th St. Collective,
Yellowson,
Angry Samoans,
EPMD,
Pole,
Flamin' Groovies,
DNA,
Girls At Our Best!,
Lee Hazlewood,
Procol Harum,
Amazonics,
Sandy B,
a-ha,
Negative Approach,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The J.B.'s,
Bronski Beat,
Fat Boys,
The Divine Comedy,
Robert Wyatt,
Barrington Levy,
Dead Boys,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Morten Harket,
Marvin Gaye,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Barracudas,
Scientists,
Terry Callier,
The Selecter,
Avey Tare,
Lightning Bolt,
Niagra,
The Cure,
Warsaw,
Big Daddy Kane,
Lalann,
Absolute Body Control,
the Bar-Kays,
The Fuzztones,
Flipper,
Sonny Sharrock,
Stiv Bators,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
L. Decosne,
Byron Stingily,
John Holt,
Hardrive,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Hashim,
The Cowsills,
The Raincoats,
Connie Case,
The Fortunes,
The Durutti Column,
Soft Machine,
The Toasters,
The Fire Engines,
Delta 5,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Skriet, Skriet, Skriet, Skriet.
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.