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 Iran and from Glasgow.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Milan.
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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Scan 7 to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Lightning Bolt. All the underground hits.
All The Flesh Eaters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stiv Bators record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Beasts of Bourbon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marine Girls,
Graham Central Station,
Popol Vuh,
Thee Headcoats,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Mo-Dettes,
Interpol,
Byron Stingily,
The Associates,
Quadrant,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Dual Sessions,
Magazine,
Max Romeo,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The New Christs,
Young Marble Giants,
The Mojo Men,
John Holt,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Walker Brothers,
Man Parrish,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Shadows of Knight,
Technova,
Pharoah Sanders,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
R.M.O.,
Skarface,
Cheater Slicks,
The Stooges,
Yazoo,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Funky Four + One,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Nik Kershaw,
a-ha,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
X-Ray Spex,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Wake,
Arab on Radar,
Barrington Levy,
John Foxx,
Dead Boys,
Roger Hodgson,
Radiohead,
Joy Division,
Q65,
Crispian St. Peters,
Eve St. Jones,
Idris Muhammad,
The Mighty Diamonds,
John Lydon,
Alice Coltrane,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Make Up,
Sonny Sharrock,
Eurythmics, Eurythmics, Eurythmics, Eurythmics.
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.