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 Georgia and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 The Kinks to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Popol Vuh. All the underground hits.
All Justin Hinds & The Dominoes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kango’s Stein Massive 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fuzztones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The American Breed,
The Knickerbockers,
Michelle Simonal,
Freddie Wadling,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Popol Vuh,
Terrestrial Tones,
Big Daddy Kane,
Lee Hazlewood,
Crash Course in Science,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Black Dice,
Blossom Toes,
The Blues Magoos,
The Searchers,
Infiniti,
The Gun Club,
Animal Collective,
a-ha,
Roxette,
Arthur Verocai,
Royal Trux,
Robert Hood,
Arcadia,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Slits,
Delta 5,
Jawbox,
The Real Kids,
The Sound,
Symarip,
Cheater Slicks,
48th St. Collective,
Black Moon,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Zeros,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Rapeman,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Dead C,
the Bar-Kays,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Don Cherry,
Public Enemy,
Byron Stingily,
The Dirtbombs,
Jeru the Damaja,
Loose Ends,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Dawn Penn,
The Buckinghams,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Blackbyrds,
Youth Brigade,
Model 500,
Henry Cow,
David Axelrod,
Drexciya,
Camberwell Now,
Audionom,
B.T. Express, B.T. Express, B.T. Express, B.T. Express.
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.