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 Swaziland and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Junior Murvin to the funk 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 Ultra Naté. All the underground hits.
All H. Thieme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yusef Lateef record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a kango's stein massive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cameo,
Interpol,
Rapeman,
Circle Jerks,
The Young Rascals,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Gabor Szabo,
Procol Harum,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Alison Limerick,
K-Klass,
Black Pus,
The Divine Comedy,
KRS-One,
Dawn Penn,
Scrapy,
Ken Boothe,
La Düsseldorf,
a-ha,
Eden Ahbez,
Q and Not U,
the Human League,
Wally Richardson,
Porter Ricks,
The Misunderstood,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Fugs,
Gang of Four,
The Smoke,
The Fuzztones,
Animal Collective,
The Moody Blues,
Visage,
Robert Wyatt,
Amon Düül,
Infiniti,
Joe Finger,
Faust,
Lyres,
Pole,
Janne Schatter,
R.M.O.,
Rod Modell,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Golliwogs,
Symarip,
the Germs,
Pylon,
Peter & Gordon,
Sex Pistols,
Cheater Slicks,
Skarface,
The Skatalites,
Prince Buster,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Remains,
Rosa Yemen,
Brand Nubian,
Johnny Osbourne,
Kurtis Blow,
Bobby Womack,
The Sonics,
Yazoo, Yazoo, Yazoo, Yazoo.
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.