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 Finland and from Jakarta.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Barrington Levy to the grunge 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 Interpol. All the underground hits.
All Kerri Chandler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Reuben Wilson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cymande,
The Star Department,
AZ,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Radio Birdman,
Cybotron,
The Trojans,
Schoolly D,
Qualms,
Crispian St. Peters,
Terrestrial Tones,
Jacques Brel,
The Skatalites,
UT,
David Bowie,
Jandek,
Erykah Badu,
The United States of America,
Ultra Naté,
Soft Machine,
Y Pants,
Basic Channel,
Tears for Fears,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Tomorrow,
Neu!,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Durutti Column,
Eurythmics,
Youth Brigade,
The Evens,
Tropical Tobacco,
Michelle Simonal,
Charles Mingus,
Ossler,
World's Most,
Oblivians,
Flamin' Groovies,
Half Japanese,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Eric B and Rakim,
Bush Tetras,
the Association,
Thee Headcoats,
Faust,
Girls At Our Best!,
Marc Almond,
Radiohead,
Barry Ungar,
Ralphi Rosario,
48th St. Collective,
The Dirtbombs,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Electric Prunes,
Roy Ayers,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Agent Orange,
The Blackbyrds,
a-ha,
Amon Düül II,
Wings,
Graham Central Station,
The Vogues, The Vogues, The Vogues, The Vogues.
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.