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 Belarus and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 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 The Gladiators to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Wasted Youth. All the underground hits.
All Shoche tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Charles Mingus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 chamberlin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brass Construction,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Lee Hazlewood,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Toasters,
The Seeds,
Sam Rivers,
Intrusion,
Surgeon,
Slick Rick,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Barclay James Harvest,
Byron Stingily,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Lindisfarne,
Massinfluence,
E-Dancer,
Tropical Tobacco,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Nico,
Carl Craig,
John Foxx,
the Soft Cell,
Cecil Taylor,
Max Romeo,
The Motions,
Ohio Players,
The Zeros,
The Neon Judgement,
Theoretical Girls,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Subhumans,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Ten City,
Fatback Band,
Soulsonic Force,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Kevin Saunderson,
X-Ray Spex,
Gang of Four,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Sound,
Spandau Ballet,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Darondo,
Ponytail,
Livin' Joy,
Cluster,
Mr. Review,
Franke,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
James White and The Blacks,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Danielle Patucci,
Wings,
Radio Birdman,
Deakin,
Monks,
Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes.
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.