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 Belize and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Agitation Free to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Sugar Minott. All the underground hits.
All The Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Pus 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Judy Mowatt,
Infiniti,
Interpol,
Marvin Gaye,
The Index,
The Divine Comedy,
Yazoo,
Brass Construction,
Niagra,
The Offenders,
Robert Hood,
Terry Callier,
The Saints,
New Order,
Kerrie Biddell,
David McCallum,
Robert Wyatt,
Sixth Finger,
Siglo XX,
Smog,
Public Enemy,
Japan,
Aural Exciters,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Yellowson,
Maurizio,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Modern Lovers,
Spandau Ballet,
Junior Murvin,
Arcadia,
Model 500,
The Doors,
Porter Ricks,
The Young Rascals,
Gabor Szabo,
Man Parrish,
Thompson Twins,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Amon Düül,
Heaven 17,
Pussy Galore,
Half Japanese,
Kool Moe Dee,
Schoolly D,
The Dead C,
Moby Grape,
Pylon,
Bootsy Collins,
Lebanon Hanover,
Cecil Taylor,
Barclay James Harvest,
Josef K,
Silicon Teens,
The Knickerbockers,
Essential Logic,
Nico,
Ohio Players,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Tres Demented,
Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic.
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.