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 Bahrain and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Major Organ And The Adding Machine to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Blancmange. All the underground hits.
All Banda Bassotti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Byrd record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 linndrum and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Boz Scaggs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Certain Ratio,
Dark Day,
The Shadows of Knight,
Visage,
Scion,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Leonard Cohen,
Public Image Ltd.,
Desert Stars,
Judy Mowatt,
Moebius,
These Immortal Souls,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Invisible,
Sam Rivers,
The Mighty Diamonds,
MDC,
Brass Construction,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Johnny Osbourne,
Al Stewart,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Ultimate Spinach,
Theoretical Girls,
Derrick Morgan,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Monolake,
The Monochrome Set,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Names,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Nik Kershaw,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Rapeman,
Groovy Waters,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Lalann,
Porter Ricks,
Section 25,
Funkadelic,
Soul II Soul,
Accadde A,
The Fuzztones,
Fad Gadget,
Brothers Johnson,
Panda Bear,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Raincoats,
Funky Four + One,
Ten City,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Harry Pussy,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Grass Roots,
Negative Approach,
Roxette,
The Walker Brothers,
Second Layer,
Angry Samoans,
The Electric Prunes,
Sex Pistols,
The Human League, The Human League, The Human League, The Human League.
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.