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 Lebanon and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Ronan to the punk 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 The Monks. All the underground hits.
All AZ tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Das Ding record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fall record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cheater Slicks,
Man Parrish,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Martian,
X-Ray Spex,
Swell Maps,
Tropical Tobacco,
DNA,
Joey Negro,
Scratch Acid,
Main Source,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Underground Resistance,
The Names,
Panda Bear,
CMW,
Young Marble Giants,
Trumans Water,
Mo-Dettes,
Albert Ayler,
EPMD,
Sixth Finger,
Rufus Thomas,
Pussy Galore,
Talk Talk,
The Smiths,
Visage,
Whodini,
Hoover,
Ludus,
Los Fastidios,
Eve St. Jones,
Connie Case,
Neil Young,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Royal Trux,
Chrome,
the Sonics,
Jeff Mills,
Rapeman,
Loose Ends,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Soul II Soul,
Excepter,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Q and Not U,
Model 500,
Saccharine Trust,
Smog,
Rites of Spring,
Au Pairs,
F. McDonald,
Aswad,
Dorothy Ashby,
Moebius,
Surgeon,
Joy Division,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
E-Dancer,
Public Enemy,
Nils Olav,
Echospace, Echospace, Echospace, Echospace.
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.