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 Benin and from Paris.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Jacques Brel to the grime 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 The Sound. All the underground hits.
All The Searchers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ken Boothe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultra Naté record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Sonics,
Altered Images,
Minutemen,
Peter & Gordon,
Clear Light,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Grass Roots,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Mad Mike,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Doobie Brothers,
Barbara Tucker,
Youth Brigade,
Nico,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Dorothy Ashby,
Bobby Womack,
Banda Bassotti,
Lalo Schifrin,
Joe Finger,
Mr. Review,
Excepter,
Minor Threat,
JFA,
Hashim,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Josef K,
Tim Buckley,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Electric Prunes,
Thompson Twins,
Swans,
Can,
Laurel Aitken,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
In Retrospect,
Joyce Sims,
UT,
Delon & Dalcan,
Lakeside,
Swell Maps,
Tropical Tobacco,
Eddi Front,
Jeru the Damaja,
Crispian St. Peters,
Gang of Four,
The Seeds,
Fugazi,
The Blues Magoos,
Albert Ayler,
Graham Central Station,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Letta Mbulu,
The Raincoats,
Ultra Naté,
The Zeros,
Al Stewart,
Infiniti,
Ossler,
Fifty Foot Hose,
EPMD,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Smog,
the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays.
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.