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 Houston.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 harpsichord 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 Nirvana to the crunk 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 Metal Thangz. All the underground hits.
All Max Romeo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Fania All-Stars 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
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 Young Marble Giants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The American Breed,
Y Pants,
Curtis Mayfield,
B.T. Express,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
the Germs,
Q and Not U,
The Black Dice,
Bang On A Can,
Camouflage,
Lungfish,
Boogie Down Productions,
Maurizio,
Outsiders,
Altered Images,
Bizarre Inc.,
Index,
The Moleskins,
The Flesh Eaters,
Cybotron,
Skarface,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Cheater Slicks,
Ken Boothe,
Marmalade,
Rosa Yemen,
Andrew Hill,
Pet Shop Boys,
Magma,
Nick Fraelich,
Panda Bear,
These Immortal Souls,
Clear Light,
Erykah Badu,
Don Cherry,
Deadbeat,
Masters at Work,
Harpers Bizarre,
Ten City,
Brand Nubian,
Barrington Levy,
The Grass Roots,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Kerrie Biddell,
Heaven 17,
Brick,
Gang Gang Dance,
Lou Christie,
Yaz,
Jimmy McGriff,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Invisible,
the Fania All-Stars,
Smog,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Mojo Men,
Public Enemy,
Dawn Penn,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Funkadelic,
The Toasters, The Toasters, The Toasters, The Toasters.
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.