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 Ecuador and from Woodstock.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Bremen.
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 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 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 Gabor Szabo to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Alarm Clocks. All the underground hits.
All Man Eating Sloth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fela Kuti 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 harpsichord and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Das Ding record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eric Copeland,
Gang Green,
X-101,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Monks,
Matthew Bourne,
John Coltrane,
Average White Band,
Chrome,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Q65,
Schoolly D,
Monks,
Guru Guru,
DJ Sneak,
Black Pus,
Eric Dolphy,
Crispy Ambulance,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Tim Buckley,
The Fuzztones,
Ponytail,
Godley & Creme,
Blake Baxter,
Tomorrow,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Wasted Youth,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Black Flag,
Deakin,
Make Up,
Robert Wyatt,
The Seeds,
Radiopuhelimet,
Fluxion,
X-102,
The Fortunes,
Accadde A,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Walker Brothers,
Scratch Acid,
The Doors,
Pussy Galore,
Sparks,
The Pretty Things,
Sonny Sharrock,
Man Parrish,
cv313,
Blancmange,
Scion,
Ice-T,
Supertramp,
Reuben Wilson,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Golliwogs,
Young Marble Giants,
Anthony Braxton,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Mars,
AZ,
The Moleskins,
Technova,
Neu!, Neu!, Neu!, Neu!.
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.