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 Tanzania and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Khruangbin to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Crash Course in Science. All the underground hits.
All The Motions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Happenings record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Shoche record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Surgeon,
Mantronix,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Joy Division,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Real Kids,
New York Dolls,
Mad Mike,
Section 25,
The Alarm Clocks,
Rites of Spring,
Colin Newman,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
the Swans,
Monolake,
June of 44,
The Detroit Cobras,
Althea and Donna,
Darondo,
The Knickerbockers,
The Pretty Things,
Saccharine Trust,
The Selecter,
Eric Dolphy,
Ituana,
Buzzcocks,
Quadrant,
Reagan Youth,
Connie Case,
Rekid,
Visage,
the Bar-Kays,
Gichy Dan,
Susan Cadogan,
The Seeds,
Anthony Braxton,
B.T. Express,
Porter Ricks,
Gerry Rafferty,
Big Daddy Kane,
Joyce Sims,
Average White Band,
The Moleskins,
Electric Prunes,
E-Dancer,
Danielle Patucci,
the Fania All-Stars,
Mary Jane Girls,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Wire,
Ohio Players,
Can,
Lebanon Hanover,
Crispian St. Peters,
Don Cherry,
Yellowson,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Standells,
Mission of Burma,
Marshall Jefferson,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Lucky Dragons,
the Germs, the Germs, the Germs, the Germs.
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.