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 Zimbabwe and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 London Community Gospel Choir to the grime 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 Hashim. All the underground hits.
All The Residents tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Smog record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 rhodes and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tres Demented record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cal Tjader,
Das Ding,
Rufus Thomas,
Lucky Dragons,
Hoover,
Model 500,
Glenn Branca,
Steve Hackett,
Kurtis Blow,
Can,
Mad Mike,
48th St. Collective,
Excepter,
Marvin Gaye,
Scientists,
Scrapy,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Bill Wells,
Sparks,
Josef K,
Gang of Four,
The Fire Engines,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Lower 48,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Derrick Morgan,
Rosa Yemen,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Black Moon,
Donny Hathaway,
The Beau Brummels,
The Dave Clark Five,
Tres Demented,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Knickerbockers,
Radiopuhelimet,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Moebius,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Ten City,
The Black Dice,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Ituana,
Lyres,
Boredoms,
Altered Images,
Moss Icon,
Reagan Youth,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Alarm Clocks,
H. Thieme,
Big Daddy Kane,
June Days,
Electric Light Orchestra,
L. Decosne,
Stockholm Monsters,
The J.B.'s,
Wings,
Pylon,
Swell Maps,
Chris & Cosey,
Marine Girls, Marine Girls, Marine Girls, Marine Girls.
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.