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 Saudi Arabia and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Talk Talk. All the underground hits.
All Gang Gang Dance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Youth Brigade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Panda Bear record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Index,
Technova,
Alison Limerick,
Rod Modell,
The Misunderstood,
Pylon,
Quando Quango,
Bobby Womack,
Brick,
Lower 48,
The Raincoats,
Lyres,
Ten City,
The Toasters,
Sex Pistols,
The Birthday Party,
Brand Nubian,
E-Dancer,
Eric Copeland,
Lungfish,
the Fania All-Stars,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Motorama,
The Fortunes,
Kevin Saunderson,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Jandek,
The Names,
X-102,
Carl Craig,
Yusef Lateef,
Half Japanese,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Ultra Naté,
Mo-Dettes,
L. Decosne,
The Walker Brothers,
Agent Orange,
Ken Boothe,
Second Layer,
Agitation Free,
Little Man,
Marc Almond,
The Smoke,
KRS-One,
The Count Five,
F. McDonald,
Audionom,
Qualms,
Franke,
The Moleskins,
The Pretty Things,
June Days,
Man Eating Sloth,
Dennis Brown,
X-Ray Spex,
Royal Trux,
The Fuzztones,
Shoche,
Godley & Creme,
Don Cherry,
Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox.
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.