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 United States and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
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 Clear Light to the techno 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 Eyeless In Gaza. All the underground hits.
All Harry Pussy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Johnny Osbourne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Hood,
Crash Course in Science,
Amon Düül,
Throbbing Gristle,
Ludus,
A Certain Ratio,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Grass Roots,
The Knickerbockers,
R.M.O.,
Andrew Hill,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Chrome,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Lyres,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Liliput,
Depeche Mode,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Aloha Tigers,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Sonics,
The Happenings,
UT,
B.T. Express,
Lungfish,
Sandy B,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Tropical Tobacco,
Icehouse,
Young Marble Giants,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Interpol,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
MC5,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Lalo Schifrin,
Scientists,
The Smoke,
Camouflage,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Joyce Sims,
Sarah Menescal,
Maleditus Sound,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Newcleus,
John Foxx,
EPMD,
Jeff Mills,
Zero Boys,
The Last Poets,
The Martian,
Malaria!,
Lalann,
Carl Craig,
Arcadia,
Siglo XX,
The Skatalites,
Blancmange,
Brand Nubian,
The Dirtbombs,
Pulsallama,
Desert Stars,
Subhumans, Subhumans, Subhumans, Subhumans.
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.