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 Palau and from Calgary.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 chamberlin 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 Wings to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Porter Ricks. All the underground hits.
All The Real Kids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ajijia Myrayebe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a One Last Wish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Absolute Body Control,
Eric Copeland,
Country Teasers,
Steve Hackett,
The Standells,
Pagans,
Sister Nancy,
Y Pants,
Derrick May,
Barbara Tucker,
The J.B.'s,
Tropical Tobacco,
Althea and Donna,
Camouflage,
Audionom,
Erykah Badu,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Brass Construction,
Eurythmics,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Barrington Levy,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Scott Walker,
Adolescents,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Sparks,
Loose Ends,
The Wake,
Gang Starr,
Quadrant,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Traffic Nightmare,
Fear,
Accadde A,
Minny Pops,
Hasil Adkins,
Freddie Wadling,
Boogie Down Productions,
Janne Schatter,
The Durutti Column,
The Techniques,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Pharoah Sanders,
Con Funk Shun,
Tres Demented,
The Kinks,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Real Kids,
The Selecter,
Essential Logic,
B.T. Express,
New York Dolls,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Robert Görl,
The Moody Blues,
The Mighty Diamonds,
L. Decosne,
Mr. Review,
Robert Wyatt,
Rakim,
These Immortal Souls,
Bad Manners,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers.
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.