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 Israel and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 sitar 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 Joe Smooth to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Derrick Morgan. All the underground hits.
All Don Cherry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Television Personalities 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ohio Players record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suicide,
New York Dolls,
Traffic Nightmare,
Man Parrish,
The Fortunes,
Chris Corsano,
The Smoke,
Harry Pussy,
KRS-One,
Hasil Adkins,
Guru Guru,
Fela Kuti,
Japan,
Terrestrial Tones,
Circle Jerks,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Aswad,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Modern Lovers,
Lower 48,
Deadbeat,
Dennis Brown,
Andrew Hill,
Eric B and Rakim,
David Axelrod,
Faust,
Brothers Johnson,
Black Bananas,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Red Krayola,
Patti Smith,
LL Cool J,
The Remains,
Nik Kershaw,
Hoover,
Visage,
CMW,
the Germs,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Stetsasonic,
Bush Tetras,
Carl Craig,
Chrome,
The Vogues,
The Last Poets,
Livin' Joy,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Thompson Twins,
The Cowsills,
Shoche,
Fugazi,
Mars,
Oblivians,
Funky Four + One,
Khruangbin,
The Golliwogs,
Yusef Lateef,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy.
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.