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 Kosovo and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in 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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Tom Boy to the grunge 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 Darondo. All the underground hits.
All Sun Ra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Beasts of Bourbon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stiv Bators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lungfish,
Moby Grape,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Grass Roots,
The Leaves,
the Normal,
Brothers Johnson,
Fela Kuti,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Bobby Byrd,
Los Fastidios,
Quadrant,
The Star Department,
10cc,
Terry Callier,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
X-Ray Spex,
The Trojans,
Scion,
John Cale,
Todd Terry,
The Offenders,
Intrusion,
Rosa Yemen,
Little Man,
Robert Wyatt,
Cymande,
Eddi Front,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Crash Course in Science,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Monochrome Set,
Al Stewart,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Cal Tjader,
Gang Green,
Eric Dolphy,
Outsiders,
June of 44,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Bobby Womack,
Crispy Ambulance,
Qualms,
Matthew Halsall,
Man Eating Sloth,
JFA,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Move,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Index,
Althea and Donna,
Maleditus Sound,
Marmalade,
Carl Craig,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Goldenarms,
The Red Krayola,
Joe Smooth,
Reuben Wilson,
The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes.
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.