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 Canada and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1973 at the first Television 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 Alison Limerick to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Hill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Human League record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 sitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pere Ubu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeff Lynne,
The Skatalites,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Pop Group,
Bobby Womack,
Erasure,
Crooked Eye,
Donny Hathaway,
Organ,
The Divine Comedy,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Prince Buster,
Black Bananas,
Warren Ellis,
Isaac Hayes,
In Retrospect,
Spoonie Gee,
Roxette,
Hashim,
The Techniques,
Schoolly D,
Lindisfarne,
Alice Coltrane,
Khruangbin,
Nation of Ulysses,
Sam Rivers,
KRS-One,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Metal Thangz,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Tim Buckley,
Symarip,
Black Sheep,
Michelle Simonal,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Yusef Lateef,
Marc Almond,
Fela Kuti,
Ultravox,
Scion,
Ronnie Foster,
The Wake,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Thee Headcoats,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Searchers,
Rapeman,
John Cale,
Monolake,
The Busters,
Wasted Youth,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
David McCallum,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Doobie Brothers,
Oblivians,
Crispian St. Peters,
Graham Central Station, Graham Central Station, Graham Central Station, Graham Central Station.
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.