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 Kenya and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 808 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 Lightning Bolt to the disco 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 F. McDonald. All the underground hits.
All Nation of Ulysses tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispy Ambulance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Hood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Public Image Ltd.,
The Last Poets,
Little Man,
Blancmange,
Mad Mike,
The Happenings,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Golliwogs,
Franke,
Spoonie Gee,
Hoover,
This Heat,
Masters at Work,
The Motions,
Wolf Eyes,
Curtis Mayfield,
the Normal,
the Swans,
Minutemen,
Can,
The Raincoats,
Gerry Rafferty,
Roger Hodgson,
Guru Guru,
Todd Rundgren,
The United States of America,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
DJ Style,
DNA,
The American Breed,
Davy DMX,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Alarm Clocks,
Livin' Joy,
Chrome,
Kayak,
Cybotron,
Reuben Wilson,
Con Funk Shun,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Young Marble Giants,
David McCallum,
The Wake,
James White and The Blacks,
The Victims,
The Sound,
Jerry's Kids,
Mission of Burma,
Sight & Sound,
Negative Approach,
Kas Product,
The Fuzztones,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Heaven 17,
Moss Icon,
Y Pants,
Terry Callier,
Crash Course in Science,
Mark Hollis,
Icehouse,
The Index,
Audionom,
Lou Reed,
Babytalk, Babytalk, Babytalk, Babytalk.
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.