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 Djibouti and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 oboe 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 Bootsy Collins to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Deadbeat. All the underground hits.
All Kas Product tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Blues Magoos 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gerry Rafferty,
Rosa Yemen,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Leaves,
Mantronix,
The Smiths,
Minnie Riperton,
Hardrive,
Quadrant,
Cameo,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Banda Bassotti,
Pantytec,
Tomorrow,
World's Most,
Amon Düül II,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Joe Finger,
Maleditus Sound,
Gabor Szabo,
Whodini,
La Düsseldorf,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Jandek,
Stockholm Monsters,
Drive Like Jehu,
Quando Quango,
Idris Muhammad,
Swans,
Cheater Slicks,
Bobby Sherman,
Drexciya,
Ice-T,
Amazonics,
Alison Limerick,
Oneida,
Crash Course in Science,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Freddie Wadling,
Youth Brigade,
Franke,
Deepchord,
Ronnie Foster,
the Human League,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
New Age Steppers,
Nik Kershaw,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
K-Klass,
Eli Mardock,
The Last Poets,
The Raincoats,
Circle Jerks,
Masters at Work,
The Durutti Column,
Bill Near,
The Happenings,
The Misunderstood,
Cecil Taylor,
Michelle Simonal,
The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks.
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.