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 Libya and from Sao Paulo.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the güiro 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 Steve Hackett to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Inner City. All the underground hits.
All The Beau Brummels tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every R.M.O. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Angels of Light,
the Association,
June of 44,
Peter and Kerry,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Easy Going,
Sugar Minott,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Cymande,
Jandek,
Rhythm & Sound,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Offenders,
Graham Central Station,
Curtis Mayfield,
Toni Rubio,
Sex Pistols,
Talk Talk,
Mark Hollis,
Crooked Eye,
Trumans Water,
Minnie Riperton,
Lungfish,
Marcia Griffiths,
Soul II Soul,
Wire,
The Human League,
Tomorrow,
Al Stewart,
Ultimate Spinach,
Alice Coltrane,
Bronski Beat,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Susan Cadogan,
Kaleidoscope,
Nas,
Funkadelic,
Moss Icon,
The Fire Engines,
Heaven 17,
Subhumans,
Mary Jane Girls,
Faraquet,
ABBA,
Traffic Nightmare,
Guru Guru,
The Detroit Cobras,
Lightning Bolt,
Derrick Morgan,
Roxy Music,
Grey Daturas,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Index,
Big Daddy Kane,
Brand Nubian,
Eden Ahbez,
Black Bananas,
K-Klass,
The Dave Clark Five,
Stiv Bators,
Scrapy,
Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry.
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.