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 Thailand and from New York.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Spokane.
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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
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 The Stooges to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Sisters of Mercy. All the underground hits.
All Barrington Levy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Doors record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABC,
Ken Boothe,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Yusef Lateef,
The Fuzztones,
Matthew Halsall,
Rakim,
Audionom,
Lungfish,
Mandrill,
Bang On A Can,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Sarah Menescal,
Kerri Chandler,
Fear,
The Raincoats,
The Happenings,
Reuben Wilson,
Cecil Taylor,
Monolake,
La Düsseldorf,
Roy Ayers,
Johnny Clarke,
John Lydon,
Sexual Harrassment,
Underground Resistance,
The New Christs,
Can,
Roger Hodgson,
Gabor Szabo,
Basic Channel,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Bad Manners,
Swell Maps,
Carl Craig,
In Retrospect,
The Golliwogs,
Ronnie Foster,
Eddi Front,
Shoche,
Agitation Free,
Nas,
Delon & Dalcan,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Agent Orange,
Jimmy McGriff,
Archie Shepp,
The Divine Comedy,
Joyce Sims,
Average White Band,
Frankie Knuckles,
Colin Newman,
Suburban Knight,
Aaron Thompson,
Groovy Waters,
Al Stewart,
The Pretty Things,
Joe Finger,
The Doors,
Lindisfarne,
Grandmaster Flash, Grandmaster Flash, Grandmaster Flash, Grandmaster Flash.
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.