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 China and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 Donald Fagen 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 Mr. Review to the disco 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 Black Pus. All the underground hits.
All Dual Sessions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Erykah Badu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Litter,
World's Most,
Visage,
Joey Negro,
Swell Maps,
Soul II Soul,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Stooges,
Crooked Eye,
Harmonia,
Wings,
Drive Like Jehu,
Don Cherry,
Warren Ellis,
Moebius,
Talk Talk,
The Shadows of Knight,
JFA,
Brothers Johnson,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Inner City,
Goldenarms,
Yaz,
Black Flag,
Faust,
Eddi Front,
the Fania All-Stars,
Qualms,
Throbbing Gristle,
Marmalade,
The Move,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Roxy Music,
the Bar-Kays,
Iggy Pop,
Susan Cadogan,
The Fire Engines,
The Fugs,
The Black Dice,
Fela Kuti,
Basic Channel,
The Young Rascals,
Rosa Yemen,
Faraquet,
Ultravox,
The Martian,
Nils Olav,
Crispy Ambulance,
Amazonics,
Darondo,
Moby Grape,
Sex Pistols,
The Dead C,
Piero Umiliani,
Amon Düül II,
Jacques Brel,
X-102,
Tomorrow,
Technova,
David Axelrod,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters.
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.