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 Costa Rica and from Delhi.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Tim Buckley to the dance 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 Peter & Gordon. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Sonics 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Standells record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Motorama,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Wasted Youth,
Terrestrial Tones,
ABC,
Erykah Badu,
June of 44,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Brass Construction,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Leonard Cohen,
Metal Thangz,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Alarm Clocks,
Agent Orange,
Fat Boys,
Steve Hackett,
Echospace,
Slick Rick,
The Young Rascals,
Rufus Thomas,
Archie Shepp,
The Last Poets,
The Fall,
Johnny Osbourne,
Todd Rundgren,
MDC,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Porter Ricks,
Warsaw,
Bill Near,
Mad Mike,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Mark Hollis,
The Smoke,
Terry Callier,
Ituana,
T.S.O.L.,
Minor Threat,
Kaleidoscope,
Dorothy Ashby,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Skaos,
Sandy B,
Royal Trux,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Grey Daturas,
Khruangbin,
Marine Girls,
Spoonie Gee,
Mandrill,
Laurel Aitken,
Bob Dylan,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Soul Sonic Force,
Groovy Waters,
The Doors, The Doors, The Doors, The Doors.
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.