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 Bahamas and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Bobby Sherman to the jazz 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 Half Japanese. All the underground hits.
All Rhythm & Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Loose Ends record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Quando Quango,
Fela Kuti,
Monks,
Fatback Band,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Liliput,
The Mummies,
H. Thieme,
Cheater Slicks,
Bobby Womack,
Terry Callier,
Livin' Joy,
The Velvet Underground,
The Gap Band,
The Gladiators,
The Martian,
Niagra,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Kerri Chandler,
Nas,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Mr. Review,
the Sonics,
Pierre Henry,
The Red Krayola,
Maleditus Sound,
Kurtis Blow,
Suicide,
Bob Dylan,
Fear,
Bizarre Inc.,
Gang Starr,
8 Eyed Spy,
Byron Stingily,
Neil Young,
48th St. Collective,
Jerry's Kids,
Gerry Rafferty,
Underground Resistance,
The Fugs,
The Sound,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Wake,
Aloha Tigers,
Minnie Riperton,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Babytalk,
Boz Scaggs,
Animal Collective,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Detroit Cobras,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Darondo,
The Angels of Light,
Schoolly D,
Simply Red,
Wings,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks.
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.