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 Gabon and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Man Eating Sloth to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 David Axelrod. All the underground hits.
All The Walker Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every In Retrospect record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pulsallama record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The American Breed,
Crispian St. Peters,
Hardrive,
Can,
Black Bananas,
Tommy Roe,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Aswad,
Pantaleimon,
Grandmaster Flash,
Rufus Thomas,
Dave Gahan,
Suburban Knight,
The Kinks,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Accadde A,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Marvin Gaye,
The Leaves,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
X-101,
Television Personalities,
Pantytec,
Tim Buckley,
Popol Vuh,
Lakeside,
The Seeds,
Man Eating Sloth,
Stiv Bators,
Cal Tjader,
Aaron Thompson,
Graham Central Station,
Parry Music,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Pylon,
Cybotron,
Lalann,
Steve Hackett,
Gang of Four,
Fad Gadget,
Q65,
The Trojans,
Livin' Joy,
The Litter,
Eric Copeland,
Gang Green,
Joyce Sims,
Sonny Sharrock,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Offenders,
Rosa Yemen,
Donny Hathaway,
Quantec,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Walker Brothers,
Masters at Work,
Jeff Lynne,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Adolescents,
Audionom,
The Slackers,
Franke,
Kango’s Stein Massive, Kango’s Stein Massive, Kango’s Stein Massive, Kango’s Stein Massive.
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.