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 Indonesia and from Sao Paulo.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Accadde A to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Steve Hackett. All the underground hits.
All Marcia Griffiths tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slave record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Essential Logic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Duran Duran,
Erasure,
Terry Callier,
Funkadelic,
The Five Americans,
Brass Construction,
the Swans,
Ronnie Foster,
UT,
Nas,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Lungfish,
Joyce Sims,
Sarah Menescal,
New York Dolls,
Dual Sessions,
Arab on Radar,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Peter and Kerry,
The Neon Judgement,
ABBA,
48th St. Collective,
The Gories,
Howard Jones,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Can,
Yusef Lateef,
The Last Poets,
Gang of Four,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Desert Stars,
Barry Ungar,
Anthony Braxton,
Con Funk Shun,
Talk Talk,
David McCallum,
Warsaw,
The Raincoats,
John Lydon,
Quadrant,
Porter Ricks,
Organ,
Franke,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Hot Snakes,
Crispy Ambulance,
Robert Görl,
Michelle Simonal,
Mars,
Suburban Knight,
The Knickerbockers,
Zapp,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Grauzone,
David Axelrod,
Colin Newman,
The Cowsills,
Minutemen,
Marc Almond,
Brand Nubian,
Lower 48,
Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants.
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.