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 Panama and from Accra.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Selecter to the funk 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 Tim Buckley. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young & Crazy Horse tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every A Flock of Seagulls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a X-101 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ken Boothe,
Scratch Acid,
Talk Talk,
Tres Demented,
China Crisis,
The Busters,
The Motions,
Yazoo,
Silicon Teens,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Symarip,
Cymande,
The Durutti Column,
Altered Images,
Nation of Ulysses,
Jacques Brel,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Bill Wells,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Half Japanese,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Absolute Body Control,
Y Pants,
The American Breed,
The Raincoats,
Warsaw,
Electric Prunes,
The Modern Lovers,
Arthur Verocai,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
June of 44,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Pylon,
Joe Smooth,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Mad Mike,
Fatback Band,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Visage,
Robert Görl,
The Misunderstood,
Youth Brigade,
Monks,
Fugazi,
John Holt,
Public Enemy,
Lyres,
DNA,
Harry Pussy,
Connie Case,
Soul II Soul,
Stiv Bators,
Bootsy Collins,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
K-Klass,
Khruangbin,
Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars.
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.