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 Monaco and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 rhodes 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 Barrington Levy to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Shuggie Otis. All the underground hits.
All Vladislav Delay tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Section 25 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Busters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grauzone,
The Litter,
Porter Ricks,
Arthur Verocai,
CMW,
Index,
Severed Heads,
The Barracudas,
Parry Music,
The Slackers,
Con Funk Shun,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Black Pus,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Motions,
Ten City,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Rod Modell,
The Fire Engines,
Gang Starr,
Max Romeo,
These Immortal Souls,
Byron Stingily,
David McCallum,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Skarface,
Shoche,
Bobby Byrd,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Star Department,
Pylon,
Buzzcocks,
The Sound,
Public Enemy,
Icehouse,
Curtis Mayfield,
June Days,
This Heat,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Isaac Hayes,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Trojans,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Soulsonic Force,
Alice Coltrane,
Kerrie Biddell,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Music Machine,
Drive Like Jehu,
Pole,
Chrome,
Sam Rivers,
Cheater Slicks,
Radio Birdman,
The Electric Prunes,
Smog,
the Slits, the Slits, the Slits, the Slits.
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.