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 Equatorial Guinea and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Barclay James Harvest to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Bobby Hutcherson. All the underground hits.
All Audionom tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alphaville record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gian Franco Pienzio record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Gun Club,
The Motions,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Grey Daturas,
Pagans,
Simply Red,
Intrusion,
Donny Hathaway,
Sight & Sound,
Mandrill,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
the Soft Cell,
Sonny Sharrock,
Swell Maps,
John Cale,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Lightning Bolt,
Suicide,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Malaria!,
Pussy Galore,
Sparks,
The Residents,
Bang On A Can,
The Mojo Men,
Echospace,
Bootsy Collins,
The Human League,
Fear,
Pylon,
Ice-T,
Tears for Fears,
The Buckinghams,
KRS-One,
Nico,
New York Dolls,
John Coltrane,
Joy Division,
Mr. Review,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Franke,
Sugar Minott,
Roxette,
The Fortunes,
Kurtis Blow,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Arab on Radar,
Sound Behaviour,
The Barracudas,
Al Stewart,
Blossom Toes,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Letta Mbulu,
Lee Hazlewood,
Deakin,
The Gladiators,
Susan Cadogan,
Reuben Wilson,
The Durutti Column,
Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne.
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.