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 Japan and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 rhodes 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 Remains to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Be Bop Deluxe. All the underground hits.
All Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suburban Knight record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a D'Angelo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Simply Red,
The Smiths,
Grauzone,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Shoche,
Eric B and Rakim,
Sandy B,
Hashim,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Oblivians,
Heaven 17,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Little Man,
Johnny Clarke,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Flash Fearless,
The J.B.'s,
Darondo,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Suburban Knight,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Animal Collective,
The Index,
The Fugs,
T. Rex,
Tommy Roe,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Lyres,
Aaron Thompson,
Dawn Penn,
X-101,
Delta 5,
The Fire Engines,
Mo-Dettes,
Prince Buster,
The Kinks,
Isaac Hayes,
Flamin' Groovies,
Tears for Fears,
Colin Newman,
KRS-One,
The Dave Clark Five,
Derrick May,
Black Pus,
Piero Umiliani,
The Happenings,
Youth Brigade,
Scientists,
Robert Görl,
Arab on Radar,
Black Moon,
Maleditus Sound,
James White and The Blacks,
The Barracudas,
Deepchord,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Neil Young,
Warren Ellis,
The Gap Band,
The Martian, The Martian, The Martian, The Martian.
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.