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 Laos and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the sitar 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 Lebanon Hanover to the crunk 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 Roxy Music. All the underground hits.
All Kango’s Stein Massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minnie Riperton record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 sitar and a synthesizer 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 harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soul Sonic Force,
Malaria!,
Marc Almond,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Raincoats,
Eric B and Rakim,
48th St. Collective,
a-ha,
Nas,
The Gories,
Black Moon,
The Techniques,
The New Christs,
Clear Light,
Traffic Nightmare,
In Retrospect,
Aaron Thompson,
Neu!,
The Gun Club,
The Misunderstood,
Funky Four + One,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Connie Case,
Wolf Eyes,
Roy Ayers,
The Shadows of Knight,
Pierre Henry,
Peter & Gordon,
Michelle Simonal,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
LL Cool J,
The J.B.'s,
Bluetip,
Fugazi,
Rekid,
Terry Callier,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Tres Demented,
Aswad,
Cameo,
The Wake,
Roxette,
The Doobie Brothers,
Public Image Ltd.,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Barbara Tucker,
F. McDonald,
Pet Shop Boys,
Bob Dylan,
Barrington Levy,
Minutemen,
Sparks,
Bobby Byrd,
The Toasters,
Ten City,
Kaleidoscope,
Radio Birdman,
The Saints, The Saints, The Saints, The Saints.
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.