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 Chad and from Spokane.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Salvador.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the marimba 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 Zapp to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Major Organ And The Adding Machine. All the underground hits.
All Amon Düül II tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sexual Harrassment record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 marimba and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stereo Dub record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Boredoms,
Scion,
Eric B and Rakim,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Guru Guru,
Reuben Wilson,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Rites of Spring,
Mandrill,
Jeru the Damaja,
Erasure,
China Crisis,
Graham Central Station,
The Red Krayola,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Cluster,
Animal Collective,
KRS-One,
Barry Ungar,
The Five Americans,
The Mummies,
Franke,
Quadrant,
Anakelly,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Ralphi Rosario,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
New York Dolls,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Monks,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Organ,
AZ,
John Coltrane,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Scott Walker,
Nico,
The Walker Brothers,
Eli Mardock,
A Certain Ratio,
Freddie Wadling,
Eyeless In Gaza,
MDC,
Archie Shepp,
Stockholm Monsters,
Liliput,
Blossom Toes,
Grandmaster Flash,
Tres Demented,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
La Düsseldorf,
Underground Resistance,
Gerry Rafferty,
James White and The Blacks,
Nik Kershaw,
Letta Mbulu,
Chris Corsano,
The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang.
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.