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 Djibouti and from Madrid.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Fugs. All the underground hits.
All Joy Division tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Womack record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Visage,
Terrestrial Tones,
Kerri Chandler,
cv313,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Trojans,
The Red Krayola,
Donald Byrd,
Flamin' Groovies,
Moby Grape,
Patti Smith,
the Sonics,
The Pop Group,
Roy Ayers,
Grandmaster Flash,
Yaz,
Tim Buckley,
Interpol,
Robert Hood,
Vainqueur,
World's Most,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Ituana,
Albert Ayler,
Roxette,
The Cure,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Kinks,
The Monochrome Set,
The Five Americans,
Crooked Eye,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Negative Approach,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Simply Red,
Audionom,
Television Personalities,
Ohio Players,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Khruangbin,
Sun City Girls,
The Electric Prunes,
John Foxx,
Unwound,
Essential Logic,
Funkadelic,
The Fortunes,
Sight & Sound,
Animal Collective,
Loose Ends,
Groovy Waters,
Yellowson,
Reuben Wilson,
LL Cool J,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Dave Clark Five,
Deadbeat,
Ponytail,
Bronski Beat,
Wire,
The Motions,
Bob Dylan,
David Axelrod,
Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls.
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.