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 Czech Republic and from Lille.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 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 Sexual Harrassment to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Eve St. Jones. All the underground hits.
All Glenn Branca tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David Bowie record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aswad,
Whodini,
Althea and Donna,
Hashim,
The Gap Band,
Ponytail,
Sandy B,
Icehouse,
Grandmaster Flash,
Sister Nancy,
Neu!,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Mary Jane Girls,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Red Krayola,
Joyce Sims,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Hoover,
June of 44,
Terry Callier,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Beau Brummels,
Blossom Toes,
MDC,
Cal Tjader,
Sällskapet,
Quando Quango,
Deakin,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Lou Christie,
Boz Scaggs,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Gun Club,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Nick Fraelich,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Black Dice,
Lungfish,
The Fuzztones,
The Grass Roots,
Silicon Teens,
Youth Brigade,
The Angels of Light,
Kenny Larkin,
Glenn Branca,
Index,
Thompson Twins,
Kayak,
D'Angelo,
Jerry's Kids,
Khruangbin,
Au Pairs,
Underground Resistance,
Curtis Mayfield,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Aloha Tigers,
Audionom,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Wasted Youth,
The Pop Group,
Shuggie Otis,
Brick, Brick, Brick, Brick.
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.