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 Barbados and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines to the disco 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 Electric Prunes. All the underground hits.
All X-102 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roger Hodgson 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Beasts of Bourbon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tropical Tobacco,
Index,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Roy Ayers,
Ralphi Rosario,
Dead Boys,
Minnie Riperton,
Lalann,
Camberwell Now,
Amazonics,
Ultra Naté,
Rhythm & Sound,
Sex Pistols,
Yaz,
Deakin,
Half Japanese,
Gregory Isaacs,
Trumans Water,
Urselle,
Fifty Foot Hose,
the Soft Cell,
Eric B and Rakim,
Boz Scaggs,
The Real Kids,
This Heat,
Traffic Nightmare,
Black Bananas,
The Last Poets,
Minutemen,
Scion,
Bill Wells,
Kevin Saunderson,
Nas,
Brass Construction,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Joyce Sims,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Swell Maps,
The Names,
Pantytec,
Marcia Griffiths,
Joe Smooth,
Dave Gahan,
Camouflage,
Deadbeat,
The Star Department,
The Move,
Ultravox,
Slave,
Gong,
The Index,
a-ha,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Kerri Chandler,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Altered Images,
Severed Heads,
Pharoah Sanders,
Interpol,
Gerry Rafferty,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes.
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.