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 South Africa and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Nik Kershaw to the crunk 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 Gary Puckett & The Union Gap tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fifty Foot Hose record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moss Icon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
Bobby Womack,
The Beau Brummels,
Arcadia,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Leaves,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Hardrive,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Rufus Thomas,
John Coltrane,
June of 44,
Lou Reed,
Monks,
Main Source,
Andrew Hill,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Cramps,
Scientists,
Black Pus,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
K-Klass,
Ronan,
Ten City,
Juan Atkins,
Cal Tjader,
Peter and Kerry,
F. McDonald,
Neu!,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Flesh Eaters,
10cc,
Fugazi,
Mad Mike,
Maurizio,
Nation of Ulysses,
The New Christs,
Circle Jerks,
PIL,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Techniques,
Mark Hollis,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Subhumans,
Throbbing Gristle,
Joey Negro,
the Human League,
Oblivians,
Henry Cow,
T. Rex,
Kerrie Biddell,
Funkadelic,
David Axelrod,
Kevin Saunderson,
Japan,
The Misunderstood,
Scratch Acid,
Gabor Szabo,
Depeche Mode,
The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers.
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.