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 Angola and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez 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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the sitar 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 The Peanut Butter Conspiracy to the crunk 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 Archie Shepp. All the underground hits.
All Accadde A tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 8 Eyed Spy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 a 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Monochrome Set record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deadbeat,
Man Eating Sloth,
Skriet,
Lungfish,
Rekid,
the Bar-Kays,
The Tremeloes,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Sexual Harrassment,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
F. McDonald,
Dorothy Ashby,
Funkadelic,
The Slackers,
Crash Course in Science,
Dave Gahan,
Das Ding,
Whodini,
The Cowsills,
Henry Cow,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Detroit Cobras,
Robert Hood,
The Grass Roots,
Rapeman,
Kayak,
Fela Kuti,
Suburban Knight,
Todd Rundgren,
Altered Images,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Saints,
Maurizio,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Liliput,
The Gap Band,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Sparks,
Oneida,
Yazoo,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Matthew Bourne,
EPMD,
Crime,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Moebius,
Marvin Gaye,
Black Moon,
Echospace,
The J.B.'s,
The Gladiators,
Steve Hackett,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Wake,
Section 25,
MDC,
DJ Style,
X-102,
Alphaville,
Q and Not U,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity.
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.