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 Paraguay and from Mexico City.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Sex Pistols to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Con Funk Shun. All the underground hits.
All Inner City tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every London Community Gospel Choir record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Subhumans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Sonics,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Wire,
Pere Ubu,
Rod Modell,
Loose Ends,
Pole,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Smog,
New Age Steppers,
June of 44,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Arab on Radar,
Godley & Creme,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Ten City,
Lindisfarne,
Wolf Eyes,
Arcadia,
Thee Headcoats,
the Fania All-Stars,
Max Romeo,
The Index,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Invisible,
PIL,
Radio Birdman,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Von Mondo,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Interpol,
Fluxion,
Charles Mingus,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Gang of Four,
Piero Umiliani,
Fatback Band,
Pierre Henry,
The Residents,
Deepchord,
Motorama,
Reagan Youth,
The Monks,
Bush Tetras,
Althea and Donna,
Ice-T,
Joyce Sims,
Oneida,
Joey Negro,
Public Image Ltd.,
Harry Pussy,
Curtis Mayfield,
Brothers Johnson,
the Normal,
Susan Cadogan,
Amon Düül II,
Cymande,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Robert Wyatt,
DJ Style, DJ Style, DJ Style, DJ Style.
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.