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 Gabon and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 Tokyo and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 T. Rex to the grunge 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 Joyce Sims. All the underground hits.
All Donny Hathaway tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alice Coltrane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 güiro and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Knickerbockers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispian St. Peters,
LL Cool J,
Joyce Sims,
Crooked Eye,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Mark Hollis,
Royal Trux,
Roy Ayers,
Bill Near,
The Music Machine,
Morten Harket,
The Dirtbombs,
Johnny Clarke,
Magma,
Y Pants,
Roxy Music,
Frankie Knuckles,
Rhythm & Sound,
the Human League,
Chris & Cosey,
Rakim,
Wire,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Accadde A,
Pulsallama,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Yellowson,
T. Rex,
The Victims,
Lungfish,
Second Layer,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Quando Quango,
Hardrive,
Grey Daturas,
Chrome,
Mary Jane Girls,
Blake Baxter,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Trojans,
Das Ding,
Ken Boothe,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Durutti Column,
Animal Collective,
Joy Division,
Cheater Slicks,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Stiv Bators,
Mo-Dettes,
The Beau Brummels,
Pharoah Sanders,
Barbara Tucker,
The Fall,
Faust,
Arcadia,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Marvin Gaye,
Popol Vuh,
Black Flag,
Freddie Wadling, Freddie Wadling, Freddie Wadling, Freddie Wadling.
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.