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 Antigua and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Stockholm.
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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the oboe 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 Country Teasers 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 The Zeros. All the underground hits.
All The Golliwogs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Darondo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 a sitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Bananas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June of 44,
Bush Tetras,
Alison Limerick,
Harry Pussy,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Standells,
Prince Buster,
Funkadelic,
The Martian,
Excepter,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Pole,
Amazonics,
Mary Jane Girls,
Babytalk,
Jeru the Damaja,
Eddi Front,
Bad Manners,
Faraquet,
Lungfish,
The Cure,
Harpers Bizarre,
Eric B and Rakim,
La Düsseldorf,
Peter and Kerry,
Cal Tjader,
Public Enemy,
Grey Daturas,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Guru Guru,
Adolescents,
the Human League,
Bobby Sherman,
Shuggie Otis,
Supertramp,
Sparks,
Johnny Osbourne,
Newcleus,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Nico,
MDC,
DJ Style,
AZ,
KRS-One,
Soft Cell,
Talk Talk,
Kool Moe Dee,
Vainqueur,
Siglo XX,
The Searchers,
Tears for Fears,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Avey Tare,
Morten Harket,
Steve Hackett,
Minny Pops,
Albert Ayler,
John Coltrane,
The Slits,
Lou Reed,
Zero Boys,
Andrew Hill,
This Heat, This Heat, This Heat, This Heat.
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.