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 Senegal and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar 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 Soft Machine to the jazz 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 Whodini. All the underground hits.
All Strawberry Alarm Clock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Banda Bassotti record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an oboe and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Severed Heads record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jacques Brel,
Guru Guru,
Subhumans,
Yellowson,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Nik Kershaw,
Steve Hackett,
Lucky Dragons,
The Alarm Clocks,
Faust,
Lou Christie,
B.T. Express,
Arthur Verocai,
Wally Richardson,
Nico,
A Certain Ratio,
The New Christs,
Blake Baxter,
The Cure,
Ultra Naté,
Nils Olav,
David McCallum,
Thompson Twins,
Fela Kuti,
Robert Wyatt,
Franke,
The Angels of Light,
Fear,
Procol Harum,
The Smoke,
Suicide,
Sam Rivers,
Flipper,
the Normal,
The Sound,
The Walker Brothers,
Model 500,
Negative Approach,
Ituana,
Jerry's Kids,
The Sisters of Mercy,
H. Thieme,
Audionom,
James White and The Blacks,
The Cowsills,
Thee Headcoats,
Erykah Badu,
DJ Style,
Tears for Fears,
Skriet,
Barclay James Harvest,
Lightning Bolt,
Magma,
Rufus Thomas,
Pantaleimon,
Skaos,
Girls At Our Best!,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Yazoo,
Aural Exciters,
Heaven 17,
Sixth Finger,
DJ Sneak,
The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids.
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.