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 Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 Milan and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the oboe 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 Blossom Toes to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Kango’s Stein Massive. All the underground hits.
All Frankie Knuckles tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Searchers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 808 and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Green record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Make Up,
The Angels of Light,
Throbbing Gristle,
Sugar Minott,
Sister Nancy,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Dead C,
Brothers Johnson,
Jeru the Damaja,
Blancmange,
Josef K,
Niagra,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Peter and Kerry,
Gang Starr,
Whodini,
Connie Case,
Lyres,
Pylon,
Schoolly D,
DJ Sneak,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
New York Dolls,
Thompson Twins,
Black Moon,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Raincoats,
The Seeds,
Youth Brigade,
Black Flag,
DJ Style,
Sonny Sharrock,
Pantaleimon,
Vainqueur,
Yellowson,
Robert Görl,
Rakim,
Nick Fraelich,
Wolf Eyes,
Outsiders,
Fear,
Letta Mbulu,
The Standells,
Aloha Tigers,
Arthur Verocai,
Sam Rivers,
Roy Ayers,
Barbara Tucker,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
H. Thieme,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
OOIOO,
Simply Red,
Boogie Down Productions,
Jerry's Kids,
Infiniti,
Von Mondo,
Fatback Band,
The United States of America,
Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade.
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.