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 New Zealand and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 güiro 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 Lalann to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All the Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Y Pants record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 48th St. Collective record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Tremeloes,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Kurtis Blow,
Magma,
Sam Rivers,
Barrington Levy,
Curtis Mayfield,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
K-Klass,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Walker Brothers,
Leonard Cohen,
Heaven 17,
Joe Finger,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Wasted Youth,
Shoche,
The Moody Blues,
Darondo,
Prince Buster,
Angry Samoans,
The Moleskins,
R.M.O.,
X-101,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Matthew Bourne,
The Wake,
Wolf Eyes,
the Swans,
Marshall Jefferson,
Pussy Galore,
Crooked Eye,
Minutemen,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Lou Christie,
Kerri Chandler,
Minor Threat,
Monks,
One Last Wish,
Iggy Pop,
Ponytail,
The Red Krayola,
Johnny Clarke,
Rekid,
The Blackbyrds,
Ten City,
D'Angelo,
Simply Red,
Whodini,
Ronnie Foster,
FM Einheit,
Wire,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Intrusion,
Section 25,
The Residents,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Japan,
The American Breed,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras.
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.