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 Guinea-Bissau and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 snare 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 Niagra 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 Eric Dolphy. All the underground hits.
All The Names tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Swans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Depeche Mode record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tears for Fears,
Rekid,
Clear Light,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Happenings,
Fela Kuti,
Sugar Minott,
Laurel Aitken,
The Cowsills,
Visage,
Nico,
Sixth Finger,
Monks,
Soul II Soul,
Matthew Bourne,
The Dead C,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Banda Bassotti,
Scion,
Hoover,
The Trojans,
Spoonie Gee,
Roxy Music,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Althea and Donna,
Eli Mardock,
Pantytec,
Spandau Ballet,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
the Association,
D'Angelo,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Blackbyrds,
Au Pairs,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Average White Band,
Mantronix,
Intrusion,
Robert Hood,
Dennis Brown,
Donald Byrd,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Fuzztones,
Hardrive,
The Victims,
Archie Shepp,
Ponytail,
The Slackers,
Guru Guru,
The Offenders,
Drexciya,
48th St. Collective,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Jawbox,
Fugazi,
The Martian,
The Techniques,
Silicon Teens,
CMW,
Erykah Badu, Erykah Badu, Erykah Badu, Erykah Badu.
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.