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 Kenya and from Tehran.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Duran Duran to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 The Pretty Things. All the underground hits.
All Niagra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tears for Fears record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thompson Twins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Selecter,
D'Angelo,
Janne Schatter,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Henry Cow,
The Walker Brothers,
The Kinks,
Barrington Levy,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Cramps,
Monks,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Real Kids,
Sun City Girls,
CMW,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Brass Construction,
The Blackbyrds,
Hasil Adkins,
The Cure,
The Invisible,
DJ Style,
Country Teasers,
Accadde A,
Sun Ra,
Scrapy,
Quantec,
Flash Fearless,
Joyce Sims,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
the Sonics,
Fela Kuti,
Babytalk,
Aaron Thompson,
Electric Prunes,
Grauzone,
Slick Rick,
Siglo XX,
Neil Young,
Faust,
Mars,
The Fortunes,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Au Pairs,
Judy Mowatt,
Barbara Tucker,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Banda Bassotti,
Mr. Review,
Gang Starr,
The Neon Judgement,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Khruangbin,
Max Romeo,
Terrestrial Tones,
Warsaw,
Minny Pops,
Lucky Dragons,
Youth Brigade,
Rotary Connection,
The Move, The Move, The Move, The Move.
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.