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 Mauritius and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Ultimate Spinach to the grime 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 Althea and Donna. All the underground hits.
All Sound Behaviour tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The American Breed record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 güiro and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Bananas,
Bad Manners,
The Divine Comedy,
The Residents,
the Bar-Kays,
Fad Gadget,
Japan,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Little Man,
Bobby Sherman,
cv313,
T.S.O.L.,
Marmalade,
Don Cherry,
Connie Case,
Swans,
Tommy Roe,
Isaac Hayes,
Severed Heads,
Drive Like Jehu,
Maleditus Sound,
Tomorrow,
The Gun Club,
Delta 5,
Camberwell Now,
Bang On A Can,
Guru Guru,
Slave,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Sandy B,
Popol Vuh,
OOIOO,
Roger Hodgson,
Harry Pussy,
The Flesh Eaters,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Fugazi,
Boz Scaggs,
Fat Boys,
Can,
Piero Umiliani,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Supertramp,
Aural Exciters,
Sonic Youth,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Reagan Youth,
This Heat,
Chrome,
Jeru the Damaja,
KRS-One,
The Remains,
Erykah Badu,
The American Breed,
The Cure,
Deadbeat,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Doors,
Zero Boys,
Brass Construction,
Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane.
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.