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 Sierra Leone and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud to the funk 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 Hoover. All the underground hits.
All The Happenings tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Siglo XX 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fugazi,
Gil Scott Heron,
F. McDonald,
Ultra Naté,
Radio Birdman,
Mary Jane Girls,
Agitation Free,
Accadde A,
Aural Exciters,
The Count Five,
Pere Ubu,
Drive Like Jehu,
Underground Resistance,
Magazine,
Soul II Soul,
Sexual Harrassment,
Harmonia,
Flipper,
Man Parrish,
DJ Style,
Bad Manners,
Young Marble Giants,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Mummies,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Martian,
Ohio Players,
New Order,
Barrington Levy,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Soft Machine,
Sun Ra,
Peter & Gordon,
Second Layer,
Fela Kuti,
Gang of Four,
The Names,
Rakim,
Suburban Knight,
Stiv Bators,
Quantec,
The Move,
Throbbing Gristle,
Inner City,
Ultravox,
Buzzcocks,
Talk Talk,
Kaleidoscope,
Goldenarms,
Marc Almond,
Barclay James Harvest,
Little Man,
Bizarre Inc.,
Eden Ahbez,
DNA,
Darondo,
Circle Jerks,
Erykah Badu,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Neon Judgement,
Piero Umiliani,
The Happenings,
the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars.
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.