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 Mozambique and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 Columbus and Salvador.
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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Men They Couldn't Hang to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Lalo Schifrin. All the underground hits.
All Sound Behaviour tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Chris Corsano record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gladiators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Moon,
Nick Fraelich,
The Offenders,
Leonard Cohen,
The Velvet Underground,
8 Eyed Spy,
Rod Modell,
The Neon Judgement,
Scratch Acid,
Von Mondo,
Sonny Sharrock,
Scientists,
Joey Negro,
Juan Atkins,
Reagan Youth,
Gong,
Lou Christie,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Bobby Sherman,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Das Ding,
Reuben Wilson,
Black Sheep,
Skriet,
Pulsallama,
Trumans Water,
The Count Five,
Slave,
Loose Ends,
The Fuzztones,
Bizarre Inc.,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Golliwogs,
Banda Bassotti,
New York Dolls,
The Seeds,
The Human League,
Sixth Finger,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Brass Construction,
The Martian,
James White and The Blacks,
The Fugs,
Q and Not U,
Faraquet,
The Smoke,
Jacques Brel,
The Motions,
Simply Red,
Dawn Penn,
Black Bananas,
Wally Richardson,
Hot Snakes,
Scott Walker,
Scan 7,
Can,
Matthew Bourne,
Donny Hathaway,
The Music Machine,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Niagra, Niagra, Niagra, Niagra.
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.