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 Malaysia and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Avey Tare to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds. All the underground hits.
All Kerrie Biddell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Moon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Quando Quango record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Frankie Knuckles,
Pantytec,
Kenny Larkin,
Parry Music,
Judy Mowatt,
Soft Machine,
Underground Resistance,
Sarah Menescal,
The Smiths,
The Blues Magoos,
Yazoo,
Lightning Bolt,
Hoover,
Swans,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Ultra Naté,
Gong,
Stiv Bators,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The United States of America,
In Retrospect,
The Five Americans,
Neu!,
Arab on Radar,
The Cowsills,
Sound Behaviour,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
La Düsseldorf,
The Trojans,
Letta Mbulu,
Lucky Dragons,
Sight & Sound,
Gerry Rafferty,
10cc,
Whodini,
The Music Machine,
Donny Hathaway,
H. Thieme,
The Dirtbombs,
One Last Wish,
Jacques Brel,
Smog,
Technova,
Albert Ayler,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
U.S. Maple,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Gories,
Dennis Brown,
Faraquet,
Robert Wyatt,
Monks,
Grandmaster Flash,
DNA,
Tears for Fears,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Severed Heads,
This Heat,
Yusef Lateef,
The Martian,
Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson.
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.