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 Tunisia and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 Stockholm and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 Nile Rodgers 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 Lindisfarne to the dance 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 X-102. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band 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 snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sound Behaviour record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Camberwell Now,
Mo-Dettes,
Joey Negro,
E-Dancer,
Niagra,
K-Klass,
FM Einheit,
Scott Walker,
Khruangbin,
Drexciya,
Andrew Hill,
Desert Stars,
Symarip,
The Raincoats,
Harry Pussy,
Metal Thangz,
Erasure,
T.S.O.L.,
Amon Düül,
Tommy Roe,
Brothers Johnson,
David Axelrod,
Bang On A Can,
Man Eating Sloth,
Siglo XX,
The Moleskins,
the Swans,
Derrick Morgan,
Jacob Miller,
Sarah Menescal,
Pagans,
Clear Light,
The Saints,
Easy Going,
Skaos,
The Red Krayola,
Public Enemy,
June of 44,
Loose Ends,
Joe Finger,
The Black Dice,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Ohio Players,
The Gladiators,
Buzzcocks,
Bush Tetras,
Gil Scott Heron,
Juan Atkins,
Von Mondo,
The Skatalites,
Circle Jerks,
Lebanon Hanover,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Organ,
Chris Corsano,
Black Moon,
Susan Cadogan,
Deakin,
World's Most,
Roxy Music,
MC5,
The Blackbyrds,
The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams.
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.