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 Mali and from Lille.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Sällskapet to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Sugar Minott. All the underground hits.
All The Walker Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gian Franco Pienzio 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mighty Diamonds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Starr,
The Move,
Fear,
Grauzone,
Angry Samoans,
Section 25,
Nils Olav,
Smog,
The Buckinghams,
Electric Prunes,
Tim Buckley,
Ken Boothe,
Lee Hazlewood,
Oneida,
Rakim,
Schoolly D,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Silicon Teens,
Ultravox,
Infiniti,
Sound Behaviour,
Jeff Mills,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Divine Comedy,
Boredoms,
Jeff Lynne,
Massinfluence,
Ralphi Rosario,
T.S.O.L.,
Cheater Slicks,
Supertramp,
John Holt,
Niagra,
Boogie Down Productions,
kango's stein massive,
Whodini,
Bush Tetras,
Rotary Connection,
Althea and Donna,
Franke,
Index,
Judy Mowatt,
Eric Copeland,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Ronnie Foster,
Ludus,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Evens,
DNA,
Marmalade,
Mr. Review,
ABBA,
Qualms,
Alphaville,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Gun Club,
Robert Wyatt,
Public Image Ltd.,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Minnie Riperton,
Steve Hackett,
Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange.
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.