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 Qatar and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Golliwogs to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Gil Scott Heron. All the underground hits.
All Ornette Coleman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Alarm Clocks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Invisible record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lower 48,
New York Dolls,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Shoche,
The Monks,
Robert Hood,
Das Ding,
Ultimate Spinach,
Wolf Eyes,
Man Parrish,
Angry Samoans,
CMW,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Mr. Review,
Funkadelic,
Peter & Gordon,
June of 44,
Deakin,
AZ,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Ultra Naté,
The Invisible,
Ohio Players,
Reagan Youth,
Heaven 17,
Harry Pussy,
The Dave Clark Five,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Cymande,
Sarah Menescal,
Ultravox,
Wasted Youth,
Sun City Girls,
Nico,
Grey Daturas,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Kenny Larkin,
Bang On A Can,
The Martian,
Aswad,
Crispian St. Peters,
Mantronix,
Bill Wells,
Fear,
Easy Going,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Visage,
The Standells,
Qualms,
The Leaves,
Goldenarms,
The Slits,
Khruangbin,
Scan 7,
Magma,
Sex Pistols,
Babytalk,
Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats.
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.