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 Botswana and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 Donald Fagen 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 Buckinghams to the grunge 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 Wolf Eyes. All the underground hits.
All Larry & the Blue Notes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Country Joe & The Fish 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Birthday Party record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Starr,
a-ha,
Bill Near,
The Flesh Eaters,
KRS-One,
Ossler,
Slick Rick,
Newcleus,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Pantytec,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Monks,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Cure,
Byron Stingily,
Nils Olav,
Don Cherry,
Scrapy,
Pussy Galore,
Model 500,
Sällskapet,
Alison Limerick,
Deakin,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
DNA,
Bill Wells,
E-Dancer,
Mission of Burma,
Howard Jones,
Radiopuhelimet,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
X-102,
Laurel Aitken,
Sparks,
The Moody Blues,
Lungfish,
Sister Nancy,
Neil Young,
Amon Düül,
The Searchers,
Con Funk Shun,
X-101,
Matthew Halsall,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Colin Newman,
Television Personalities,
The Martian,
Eric Dolphy,
Soul II Soul,
Rufus Thomas,
K-Klass,
Pere Ubu,
Interpol,
Crooked Eye,
Audionom,
Nas,
The Gories,
The Slits,
Can,
Jerry's Kids, Jerry's Kids, Jerry's Kids, Jerry's Kids.
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.