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 Grenada and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 sitar 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 The Neon Judgement to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Ice-T. All the underground hits.
All Spoonie Gee tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Neil Young 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mad Mike record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ponytail,
Crispian St. Peters,
World's Most,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Human League,
David Axelrod,
Delon & Dalcan,
Saccharine Trust,
Sexual Harrassment,
Roxette,
Ludus,
The American Breed,
Swell Maps,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Divine Comedy,
New York Dolls,
Goldenarms,
Bill Near,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Pop Group,
Bad Manners,
Lightning Bolt,
Los Fastidios,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Searchers,
Moby Grape,
Kayak,
The Victims,
The J.B.'s,
Jawbox,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Monochrome Set,
Mission of Burma,
Barrington Levy,
Connie Case,
Sarah Menescal,
Agent Orange,
Brass Construction,
James White and The Blacks,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Popol Vuh,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Lalann,
The Monks,
Maurizio,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Wake,
JFA,
the Association,
Altered Images,
Camberwell Now,
Matthew Bourne,
The Sonics,
Black Moon,
Angry Samoans,
Drexciya,
Cecil Taylor,
The Music Machine,
Eden Ahbez,
Ultravox, Ultravox, Ultravox, Ultravox.
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.