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 Gambia and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Soft Cell to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Martian. All the underground hits.
All Kool Moe Dee tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gladiators 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Niagra 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?
The Velvet Underground,
X-102,
The Sonics,
Slave,
Con Funk Shun,
Tommy Roe,
Marvin Gaye,
Sällskapet,
Don Cherry,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Rufus Thomas,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Charles Mingus,
This Heat,
The Pop Group,
Silicon Teens,
Underground Resistance,
E-Dancer,
Peter and Kerry,
Bob Dylan,
David Axelrod,
The Skatalites,
Symarip,
The Moleskins,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Jeff Lynne,
Letta Mbulu,
The Smiths,
Fifty Foot Hose,
the Association,
Ultravox,
John Cale,
Marc Almond,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Donny Hathaway,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
New Age Steppers,
The Saints,
Dual Sessions,
Joe Smooth,
Sun City Girls,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Tom Boy,
Khruangbin,
John Foxx,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Loose Ends,
Kas Product,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Modern Lovers,
The Beau Brummels,
The Fall,
Jerry's Kids,
D'Angelo,
The Durutti Column,
Todd Terry,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Quadrant,
Mad Mike,
Stereo Dub,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone.
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.