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 Saudi Arabia and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
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 Lalo Schifrin to the dance 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 Kinks. All the underground hits.
All Liaisons Dangereuses tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fuzztones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kool G Rap & DJ Polo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
James White and The Blacks,
Pylon,
Nick Fraelich,
Anakelly,
Infiniti,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Flamin' Groovies,
Aswad,
The Gun Club,
Rosa Yemen,
The Leaves,
Bob Dylan,
Rakim,
The Fall,
Fela Kuti,
Zero Boys,
The Pop Group,
Magazine,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
OOIOO,
Yazoo,
Sound Behaviour,
Grey Daturas,
Babytalk,
Soft Cell,
Liliput,
F. McDonald,
Bad Manners,
Eric Copeland,
Malaria!,
Harpers Bizarre,
Warren Ellis,
Rhythm & Sound,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Flesh Eaters,
Tim Buckley,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
ABC,
The Mummies,
Con Funk Shun,
Inner City,
Piero Umiliani,
Dorothy Ashby,
Erasure,
Agitation Free,
Delta 5,
Big Daddy Kane,
Barclay James Harvest,
Q65,
Alton Ellis,
Dennis Brown,
Negative Approach,
Alison Limerick,
Curtis Mayfield,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Music Machine,
The Dirtbombs,
The Searchers,
Ultravox,
Sun City Girls,
Television Personalities,
The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks.
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.