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 Kazakhstan and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Bar-Kays to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Martian. All the underground hits.
All Terrestrial Tones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Görl 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Hutcherson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Steve Hackett,
The Stooges,
Aswad,
the Human League,
Duran Duran,
Dawn Penn,
Eric Copeland,
Flipper,
These Immortal Souls,
Aloha Tigers,
John Coltrane,
Con Funk Shun,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Flesh Eaters,
Amon Düül,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Niagra,
The Techniques,
The J.B.'s,
Ossler,
Robert Görl,
Guru Guru,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Gastr Del Sol,
A Certain Ratio,
Aural Exciters,
Sexual Harrassment,
Soulsonic Force,
Kool Moe Dee,
Circle Jerks,
Althea and Donna,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
New York Dolls,
Country Teasers,
Andrew Hill,
Joe Finger,
Barbara Tucker,
Grandmaster Flash,
Glambeats Corp.,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Alison Limerick,
The Names,
Liliput,
Marmalade,
Moby Grape,
Swans,
Avey Tare,
Minutemen,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Rites of Spring,
Barry Ungar,
Scan 7,
Panda Bear,
Delon & Dalcan,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Black Moon,
The Searchers,
Pulsallama,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Ultravox, Ultravox, Ultravox, Ultravox.
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.