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 Luxembourg and from Manchester.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 Captain Beefheart 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 Andrew Hill to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Lafayette Afro Rock Band. All the underground hits.
All Electric Light Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dennis Brown record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jeff Lynne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
A Certain Ratio,
Intrusion,
Brothers Johnson,
The Associates,
Dark Day,
Tom Boy,
The Red Krayola,
Robert Wyatt,
The Golliwogs,
John Holt,
The Fuzztones,
Ice-T,
Jeff Lynne,
Junior Murvin,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Kayak,
Roy Ayers,
Sonny Sharrock,
Albert Ayler,
Camouflage,
Talk Talk,
Niagra,
Cheater Slicks,
Traffic Nightmare,
B.T. Express,
Masters at Work,
Jacques Brel,
The Buckinghams,
Sex Pistols,
Sarah Menescal,
The Evens,
Dave Gahan,
X-Ray Spex,
Boogie Down Productions,
Underground Resistance,
Radiohead,
June of 44,
John Cale,
The Fugs,
The Skatalites,
The Velvet Underground,
Faraquet,
Wire,
Leonard Cohen,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Music Machine,
Skarface,
Fatback Band,
Siglo XX,
Todd Rundgren,
Bluetip,
Bill Near,
Soulsonic Force,
ABBA,
Magma,
Kas Product,
The Cowsills,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Whodini,
Glambeats Corp., Glambeats Corp., Glambeats Corp., Glambeats Corp..
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.