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 Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Minny Pops to the rock 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 Frankie Knuckles. All the underground hits.
All FM Einheit tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Clear Light record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Excepter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Tremeloes,
Surgeon,
Fatback Band,
Black Flag,
The Star Department,
K-Klass,
Liliput,
Barry Ungar,
Essential Logic,
Scion,
Cheater Slicks,
John Foxx,
Radio Birdman,
Country Teasers,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Bluetip,
The Flesh Eaters,
Moss Icon,
Quando Quango,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Carl Craig,
Negative Approach,
Alphaville,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Harry Pussy,
The Evens,
Amon Düül II,
Gang Green,
Saccharine Trust,
The Blues Magoos,
Max Romeo,
Neu!,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Gichy Dan,
Qualms,
Pantaleimon,
The Gladiators,
Delon & Dalcan,
Ponytail,
Excepter,
F. McDonald,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Grass Roots,
Toni Rubio,
Symarip,
Hot Snakes,
The Motions,
Soft Machine,
Pere Ubu,
This Heat,
The Slackers,
Marc Almond,
Nirvana,
The Detroit Cobras,
Tropical Tobacco,
Radiopuhelimet,
Al Stewart,
EPMD,
Josef K, Josef K, Josef K, Josef K.
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.