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 Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 kango's stein massive to the punk 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 Chocolate Watch Band. All the underground hits.
All Kings Of Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobbi Humphrey record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a U.S. Maple record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bill Wells,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Leaves,
Mad Mike,
Kas Product,
Scratch Acid,
Sex Pistols,
Radio Birdman,
Organ,
Das Ding,
Iggy Pop,
Kayak,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
MDC,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Ituana,
Swell Maps,
Marshall Jefferson,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Trojans,
Ice-T,
Sight & Sound,
Pole,
The Searchers,
Massinfluence,
Susan Cadogan,
Man Eating Sloth,
Jerry's Kids,
Cecil Taylor,
Joey Negro,
Hashim,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Gong,
Suburban Knight,
Los Fastidios,
Bobby Womack,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Urselle,
Con Funk Shun,
Barbara Tucker,
Ponytail,
The Stooges,
Blake Baxter,
Magazine,
Cameo,
the Normal,
Soul II Soul,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Skatalites,
Black Pus,
Moby Grape,
Lalann,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Basic Channel,
Flipper,
Juan Atkins,
The Alarm Clocks,
Scion,
Goldenarms,
Steve Hackett,
Country Teasers,
Porter Ricks,
Aural Exciters,
Royal Trux, Royal Trux, Royal Trux, Royal Trux.
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.