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 Nepal and from Tehran.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 The Five Americans to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Schoolly D. All the underground hits.
All Manfred Mann's Earth Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pulsallama record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang of Four record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Funkadelic,
Section 25,
Danielle Patucci,
Fear,
Sugar Minott,
Boogie Down Productions,
Gastr Del Sol,
Rufus Thomas,
Soft Machine,
R.M.O.,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Litter,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Reagan Youth,
Jeru the Damaja,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Searchers,
Al Stewart,
Sällskapet,
E-Dancer,
Jacob Miller,
AZ,
The Doors,
Fat Boys,
The Mojo Men,
Gil Scott Heron,
Marine Girls,
Bad Manners,
Whodini,
The J.B.'s,
Agent Orange,
Joyce Sims,
Eve St. Jones,
The Fuzztones,
Crispy Ambulance,
Man Eating Sloth,
DJ Sneak,
Gang of Four,
Cal Tjader,
John Foxx,
Joy Division,
Fort Wilson Riot,
the Soft Cell,
The Offenders,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Delta 5,
Moby Grape,
Yellowson,
The Last Poets,
the Human League,
Severed Heads,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Laurel Aitken,
PIL,
The Walker Brothers,
David Bowie,
Girls At Our Best!,
Organ,
Nirvana,
Albert Ayler,
Ralphi Rosario,
Bobby Sherman,
The Fire Engines,
Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat.
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.