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 Guinea-Bissau and from Glasgow.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Human League to the funk 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 Y Pants. All the underground hits.
All The Saints tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fire Engines 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Amazonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cal Tjader,
The Knickerbockers,
The Slackers,
Pagans,
The Tremeloes,
the Slits,
The Barracudas,
Supertramp,
Chris & Cosey,
Delon & Dalcan,
Jerry's Kids,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Moleskins,
Mission of Burma,
Flipper,
David Axelrod,
Rites of Spring,
The Shadows of Knight,
Deakin,
The Saints,
Masters at Work,
Grauzone,
Faraquet,
Suburban Knight,
The Searchers,
Tears for Fears,
Arthur Verocai,
The Blues Magoos,
the Normal,
Cluster,
Lindisfarne,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Alison Limerick,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Sonny Sharrock,
David McCallum,
Aloha Tigers,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Ossler,
Wings,
Robert Wyatt,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Grass Roots,
Gabor Szabo,
Marmalade,
Dead Boys,
Pulsallama,
Marvin Gaye,
Theoretical Girls,
The Pop Group,
Easy Going,
Junior Murvin,
Parry Music,
Lucky Dragons,
Jeff Lynne,
Stetsasonic,
The Red Krayola,
Hoover,
Slick Rick,
Josef K,
Los Fastidios,
Radio Birdman, Radio Birdman, Radio Birdman, Radio Birdman.
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.