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 South Africa and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar 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 Boz Scaggs to the electroclash 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 Mission of Burma. All the underground hits.
All The Blues Magoos tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Doobie Brothers 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deakin,
Amazonics,
The Alarm Clocks,
Flamin' Groovies,
K-Klass,
kango's stein massive,
Infiniti,
Thompson Twins,
Con Funk Shun,
Harry Pussy,
Oblivians,
Bill Wells,
Gong,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Gerry Rafferty,
Scion,
Toni Rubio,
This Heat,
Hoover,
Intrusion,
Lalann,
The Searchers,
Delta 5,
Pharoah Sanders,
Neu!,
Agent Orange,
Sandy B,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
T. Rex,
Agitation Free,
Youth Brigade,
Goldenarms,
Lebanon Hanover,
Tom Boy,
The Neon Judgement,
Joey Negro,
Whodini,
The Young Rascals,
Severed Heads,
Arab on Radar,
Matthew Bourne,
Cecil Taylor,
The Smiths,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Basic Channel,
Dorothy Ashby,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Lungfish,
Robert Görl,
Fat Boys,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Rotary Connection,
D'Angelo,
Bootsy Collins,
Minny Pops,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Supertramp,
Roxy Music,
Eve St. Jones,
John Holt,
The Durutti Column,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Ken Boothe,
Country Joe & The Fish, Country Joe & The Fish, Country Joe & The Fish, Country Joe & The Fish.
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.