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 Qatar and from Accra.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Kinks to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Danielle Patucci. All the underground hits.
All The Moody Blues tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Prince Buster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Mo-Dettes,
The Red Krayola,
Animal Collective,
Derrick Morgan,
Mary Jane Girls,
Zero Boys,
Excepter,
Bush Tetras,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Walker Brothers,
Fluxion,
Scrapy,
R.M.O.,
The Kinks,
The Cramps,
Blancmange,
Roy Ayers,
Second Layer,
ABBA,
F. McDonald,
Ten City,
Derrick May,
Tommy Roe,
the Slits,
Letta Mbulu,
Jeff Mills,
Kevin Saunderson,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
the Swans,
The Beau Brummels,
Marcia Griffiths,
Magma,
Jerry's Kids,
Todd Rundgren,
Duran Duran,
The Flesh Eaters,
Donald Byrd,
KRS-One,
The Leaves,
The Dead C,
Malaria!,
Theoretical Girls,
Nirvana,
Cameo,
Surgeon,
Marmalade,
Dave Gahan,
Jimmy McGriff,
Lucky Dragons,
Shoche,
Can,
The Wake,
Bob Dylan,
Yusef Lateef,
Josef K,
the Normal,
Rites of Spring,
Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith.
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.