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 Cuba and from Salvador.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Anakelly to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Negative Approach. All the underground hits.
All Crispian St. Peters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Toni Rubio record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sarah Menescal record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tim Buckley,
Joe Finger,
Brick,
Avey Tare,
Ronnie Foster,
Hoover,
The Skatalites,
Accadde A,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Black Pus,
L. Decosne,
Man Parrish,
Sällskapet,
Animal Collective,
Mr. Review,
Public Image Ltd.,
Flash Fearless,
The Names,
Section 25,
Can,
Wally Richardson,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Slave,
Bill Near,
Jerry's Kids,
Michelle Simonal,
Eric B and Rakim,
Popol Vuh,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Leaves,
The Electric Prunes,
The Remains,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Pussy Galore,
Organ,
Echospace,
The Angels of Light,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
La Düsseldorf,
Circle Jerks,
Tres Demented,
Grauzone,
The Divine Comedy,
Parry Music,
Howard Jones,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Zeros,
Maurizio,
Mission of Burma,
Tubeway Army,
The Vogues,
Deakin,
Marmalade,
Marcia Griffiths,
Goldenarms,
Rekid,
Freddie Wadling,
Eric Copeland,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang.
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.