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 Belize and from Tokyo.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Freddie Wadling to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Bobby Hutcherson. All the underground hits.
All Young Marble Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Beasts of Bourbon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The American Breed,
Bobby Womack,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Blues Magoos,
the Soft Cell,
The Durutti Column,
Pole,
Kurtis Blow,
Neil Young,
Brick,
Nico,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Stiv Bators,
Erykah Badu,
Minutemen,
The Doors,
Main Source,
Hoover,
Rufus Thomas,
Aswad,
The Neon Judgement,
Lou Reed,
Icehouse,
The Gladiators,
Massinfluence,
John Foxx,
Dual Sessions,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Wolf Eyes,
Pierre Henry,
Bill Wells,
Saccharine Trust,
The Sound,
The Buckinghams,
Crash Course in Science,
The Red Krayola,
The Techniques,
Morten Harket,
Drexciya,
Echospace,
Public Image Ltd.,
Howard Jones,
In Retrospect,
Alphaville,
Magma,
Tubeway Army,
Scientists,
Amon Düül II,
The Saints,
Inner City,
Magazine,
Joe Finger,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Five Americans,
June Days,
Ohio Players,
Dorothy Ashby,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Brass Construction,
Dawn Penn,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Ronnie Foster,
Mission of Burma,
Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt.
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.