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 St Lucia and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Bang On A Can to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Robert Görl. All the underground hits.
All John Foxx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stockholm Monsters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jerry Gold Smith,
John Coltrane,
Theoretical Girls,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Monks,
Organ,
Altered Images,
Slave,
The Standells,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
David Bowie,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Fortunes,
Barbara Tucker,
Stockholm Monsters,
Terrestrial Tones,
Shuggie Otis,
F. McDonald,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Black Bananas,
Fatback Band,
the Slits,
Scientists,
Urselle,
Wings,
Ice-T,
Underground Resistance,
Alphaville,
Adolescents,
X-102,
Bizarre Inc.,
Con Funk Shun,
Youth Brigade,
The Mummies,
Banda Bassotti,
Soul Sonic Force,
Rod Modell,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Anthony Braxton,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Sugar Minott,
Blossom Toes,
Johnny Clarke,
AZ,
Todd Terry,
Toni Rubio,
The Cure,
ABC,
Masters at Work,
Gil Scott Heron,
Dave Gahan,
Little Man,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Stiv Bators,
Popol Vuh,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Los Fastidios,
Archie Shepp,
Von Mondo,
Camouflage,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Slits, The Slits, The Slits, The Slits.
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.