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 Zambia and from Sao Paulo.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 sitar 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 Kango’s Stein Massive to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Panda Bear. All the underground hits.
All The Angels of Light tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Excepter 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Quadrant record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Clear Light,
Thee Headcoats,
The Human League,
Moby Grape,
Scrapy,
The Moody Blues,
Vladislav Delay,
Blancmange,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Hashim,
Hoover,
Siglo XX,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Stooges,
U.S. Maple,
Surgeon,
Cymande,
The Zeros,
The Leaves,
Wally Richardson,
the Slits,
AZ,
World's Most,
Kool Moe Dee,
Suicide,
Piero Umiliani,
Judy Mowatt,
Organ,
Intrusion,
The Saints,
Sällskapet,
Spoonie Gee,
Royal Trux,
Bill Wells,
Flamin' Groovies,
Derrick May,
Black Bananas,
Roy Ayers,
Ten City,
Big Daddy Kane,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Khruangbin,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Kerri Chandler,
Gang Gang Dance,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Shadows of Knight,
Byron Stingily,
the Swans,
Brand Nubian,
Au Pairs,
John Cale,
Nation of Ulysses,
Stetsasonic,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Q and Not U,
Nik Kershaw,
Toni Rubio,
Erasure,
Pantaleimon,
Country Teasers,
The Cure,
the Bar-Kays,
James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions.
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.