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 Australia and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Flamin' Groovies to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Newcleus. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Byrd tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Erykah Badu 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Prince Buster,
Wally Richardson,
Don Cherry,
Chris Corsano,
Kevin Saunderson,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Babytalk,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Smoke,
Magazine,
Rapeman,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
48th St. Collective,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
La Düsseldorf,
The Fuzztones,
Quadrant,
Morten Harket,
The Selecter,
Ituana,
Boredoms,
Mr. Review,
Cluster,
The Vogues,
Oneida,
Cybotron,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Sisters of Mercy,
kango's stein massive,
Gang of Four,
Goldenarms,
Deepchord,
Leonard Cohen,
Traffic Nightmare,
Mark Hollis,
Warren Ellis,
Radio Birdman,
T. Rex,
New York Dolls,
Henry Cow,
Sugar Minott,
Idris Muhammad,
MDC,
June of 44,
Tropical Tobacco,
Kenny Larkin,
The Mummies,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Infiniti,
Model 500,
Peter & Gordon,
Saccharine Trust,
Harmonia,
Bobby Byrd,
Bobby Sherman,
Arab on Radar,
The Offenders,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Duran Duran,
The Electric Prunes,
Isaac Hayes, Isaac Hayes, Isaac Hayes, Isaac Hayes.
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.