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 Ivory Coast and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 organ 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 Sun Ra Arkestra to the rap 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 Eddi Front. All the underground hits.
All Crash Course in Science tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Sherman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terry Callier record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Khruangbin,
Goldenarms,
This Heat,
Q65,
kango's stein massive,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Fire Engines,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
10cc,
Smog,
Johnny Clarke,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Robert Hood,
CMW,
June Days,
Severed Heads,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Television Personalities,
These Immortal Souls,
James Chance & The Contortions,
David Axelrod,
David McCallum,
Judy Mowatt,
Joyce Sims,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Wolf Eyes,
The New Christs,
In Retrospect,
The Mummies,
Marvin Gaye,
X-102,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Rod Modell,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Drexciya,
David Bowie,
Bad Manners,
Minny Pops,
the Association,
Eve St. Jones,
Easy Going,
Stockholm Monsters,
Anthony Braxton,
Henry Cow,
Absolute Body Control,
Duran Duran,
John Coltrane,
Nils Olav,
Sister Nancy,
Scrapy,
Roger Hodgson,
the Bar-Kays,
Bluetip,
Hoover,
Kerri Chandler,
48th St. Collective,
Don Cherry,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
John Foxx,
Pole, Pole, Pole, Pole.
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.