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 Kosovo and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Ralphi Rosario to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Lafayette Afro Rock Band. All the underground hits.
All Crooked Eye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sonic Youth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oppenheimer Analysis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
Das Ding,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Dual Sessions,
Electric Prunes,
Q65,
Motorama,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Smiths,
The Last Poets,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Fluxion,
Freddie Wadling,
Ronnie Foster,
Quadrant,
Howard Jones,
Yazoo,
Charles Mingus,
Tim Buckley,
Mo-Dettes,
Brass Construction,
Agitation Free,
The Index,
the Sonics,
Nik Kershaw,
Bobby Byrd,
Anakelly,
The Cowsills,
Ultra Naté,
The Barracudas,
The Mummies,
Terry Callier,
Arthur Verocai,
Pere Ubu,
Gregory Isaacs,
Eric B and Rakim,
Minor Threat,
Robert Hood,
Derrick May,
The Misunderstood,
Cybotron,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Sight & Sound,
Radio Birdman,
Roxy Music,
Sex Pistols,
Little Man,
World's Most,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Quantec,
David McCallum,
Eurythmics,
The United States of America,
Glenn Branca,
X-Ray Spex,
The Fugs,
Rod Modell,
Spoonie Gee,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Gerry Rafferty,
Danielle Patucci,
Lucky Dragons,
Peter and Kerry, Peter and Kerry, Peter and Kerry, Peter and Kerry.
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.