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 Bhutan and from Lyon.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Marvin Gaye to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Moody Blues. All the underground hits.
All Jimmy McGriff tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Loose Ends record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Big Daddy Kane,
48th St. Collective,
The Durutti Column,
One Last Wish,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Dirtbombs,
Tom Boy,
the Slits,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
the Germs,
Warren Ellis,
Scion,
Aswad,
Echospace,
David Axelrod,
the Bar-Kays,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Saccharine Trust,
Neil Young,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Howard Jones,
The Birthday Party,
The Raincoats,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Jerry's Kids,
Graham Central Station,
The New Christs,
The Black Dice,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Quando Quango,
Eric Dolphy,
The Index,
Kayak,
The Dave Clark Five,
Shuggie Otis,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Erykah Badu,
Black Pus,
Severed Heads,
Man Eating Sloth,
Steve Hackett,
Boz Scaggs,
Country Joe & The Fish,
the Sonics,
The Blues Magoos,
Easy Going,
Rites of Spring,
B.T. Express,
World's Most,
Infiniti,
The United States of America,
The Count Five,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Motions,
Panda Bear,
Lalann,
Thompson Twins,
Smog,
Television,
Traffic Nightmare,
Eli Mardock,
Zero Boys,
ABBA, ABBA, ABBA, ABBA.
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.