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 Cape Verde and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Detroit Cobras to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Blake Baxter. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott Heron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Malaria! 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 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?
Minor Threat,
Crispian St. Peters,
Ultimate Spinach,
the Slits,
Rakim,
Cal Tjader,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Talk Talk,
Popol Vuh,
Tears for Fears,
Rosa Yemen,
The Toasters,
Monolake,
Faust,
Donald Byrd,
Marcia Griffiths,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
These Immortal Souls,
The Five Americans,
The Neon Judgement,
Neu!,
Swell Maps,
Roxy Music,
Fad Gadget,
Andrew Hill,
Tom Boy,
Wire,
B.T. Express,
Quadrant,
The Motions,
Circle Jerks,
Soul Sonic Force,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Siglo XX,
Joyce Sims,
Young Marble Giants,
Dark Day,
June Days,
Jandek,
Leonard Cohen,
The Martian,
The Associates,
Gabor Szabo,
Fluxion,
Robert Wyatt,
Gang Gang Dance,
The New Christs,
Lou Reed,
Juan Atkins,
the Fania All-Stars,
Eli Mardock,
The Saints,
Second Layer,
Organ,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Nils Olav,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Young Rascals,
The Vogues, The Vogues, The Vogues, The Vogues.
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.