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 Dominican Republic and from Lagos.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 theremin 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 Nirvana to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Electric Prunes. All the underground hits.
All Eurythmics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every KRS-One record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Erykah Badu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Swell Maps,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Black Bananas,
The Associates,
The Names,
Nirvana,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Kerri Chandler,
Terrestrial Tones,
Sex Pistols,
The Monochrome Set,
These Immortal Souls,
Shoche,
T.S.O.L.,
The Residents,
Stiv Bators,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Wire,
Al Stewart,
John Foxx,
Animal Collective,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Wings,
Barry Ungar,
Matthew Bourne,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Black Sheep,
The Gun Club,
Bob Dylan,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
X-102,
Gong,
Rakim,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Charles Mingus,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Johnny Osbourne,
Buzzcocks,
This Heat,
Jawbox,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Lebanon Hanover,
Boredoms,
Infiniti,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Wake,
The Barracudas,
Morten Harket,
K-Klass,
Terry Callier,
Eddi Front,
Ossler,
Donny Hathaway,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Roger Hodgson,
Juan Atkins,
Average White Band,
Hoover,
Ice-T,
Camberwell Now,
Sparks,
Grauzone, Grauzone, Grauzone, Grauzone.
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.