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 Iran and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the theremin 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 Mighty Diamonds to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Lou Christie tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Starr 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 an oboe and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dorothy Ashby record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tommy Roe,
Jacques Brel,
Eddi Front,
Depeche Mode,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Suicide,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Roxette,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Cal Tjader,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Rites of Spring,
The Gladiators,
The Last Poets,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Urselle,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
John Holt,
The Red Krayola,
Circle Jerks,
Prince Buster,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Monks,
Alison Limerick,
Joey Negro,
MC5,
Max Romeo,
Avey Tare,
Warsaw,
Cameo,
Roger Hodgson,
Nico,
Make Up,
Man Parrish,
Hashim,
Gang Green,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
kango's stein massive,
Panda Bear,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Magma,
Ultravox,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Detroit Cobras,
Porter Ricks,
Idris Muhammad,
Don Cherry,
The Smiths,
48th St. Collective,
Surgeon,
Eden Ahbez,
Amon Düül II,
Bush Tetras,
The Cure,
Public Image Ltd.,
Underground Resistance,
Buzzcocks,
Liliput,
Ice-T,
Sound Behaviour,
The Standells,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes, The 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.