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 Tuvalu and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
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 Matthew Halsall to the funk 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 Thee Headcoats. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sugar Minott record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Boz Scaggs,
Rekid,
48th St. Collective,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Cal Tjader,
Matthew Bourne,
World's Most,
Reagan Youth,
The Vogues,
David Axelrod,
Scan 7,
Spoonie Gee,
Rhythm & Sound,
Anakelly,
The J.B.'s,
Kool Moe Dee,
X-101,
Minny Pops,
The Dirtbombs,
Liliput,
David Bowie,
Vladislav Delay,
Interpol,
John Lydon,
Boogie Down Productions,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Excepter,
The Knickerbockers,
Terry Callier,
Duran Duran,
Nation of Ulysses,
Make Up,
One Last Wish,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Siglo XX,
Flash Fearless,
Donny Hathaway,
Angry Samoans,
The Remains,
Eric B and Rakim,
Cymande,
Godley & Creme,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Chrome,
Faraquet,
Graham Central Station,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Shoche,
The Associates,
Danielle Patucci,
Joensuu 1685,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Motions,
Kerri Chandler,
Warsaw,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Selecter,
Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté.
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.