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 Sudan and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 The Black Dice to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Reuben Wilson. All the underground hits.
All Gabor Szabo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slave 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cowsills record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Steve Hackett,
Barclay James Harvest,
Tropical Tobacco,
Blake Baxter,
X-101,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
David McCallum,
Sixth Finger,
The Pop Group,
Eyeless In Gaza,
UT,
The Vogues,
Harry Pussy,
Kaleidoscope,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Amazonics,
The Gun Club,
Wolf Eyes,
The Evens,
Wasted Youth,
Hot Snakes,
Lungfish,
Interpol,
Make Up,
These Immortal Souls,
Alison Limerick,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Absolute Body Control,
Flipper,
Roxy Music,
Gang Green,
Bob Dylan,
Judy Mowatt,
Dead Boys,
Howard Jones,
Public Enemy,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Cure,
Los Fastidios,
Bobby Byrd,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Ultra Naté,
the Bar-Kays,
Talk Talk,
Chris Corsano,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Henry Cow,
Porter Ricks,
Morten Harket,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Peter & Gordon,
Bluetip,
Iggy Pop,
Japan,
Crime,
EPMD,
In Retrospect,
The Blues Magoos,
The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks.
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.