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 South Africa and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Deepchord to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Neil Young & Crazy Horse. All the underground hits.
All Hasil Adkins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every La Düsseldorf 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Busters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Reuben Wilson,
Motorama,
Anthony Braxton,
The Young Rascals,
The Leaves,
Goldenarms,
Circle Jerks,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Suicide,
Erykah Badu,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Bobby Hutcherson,
8 Eyed Spy,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Lalo Schifrin,
Ossler,
Joe Smooth,
Nik Kershaw,
A Certain Ratio,
the Human League,
Aloha Tigers,
The Cowsills,
Pylon,
The Durutti Column,
the Fania All-Stars,
Wasted Youth,
One Last Wish,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Pulsallama,
Make Up,
Deakin,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Henry Cow,
Patti Smith,
Harmonia,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Fifty Foot Hose,
David McCallum,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Pretty Things,
June of 44,
Youth Brigade,
Absolute Body Control,
Cymande,
Crooked Eye,
The Selecter,
Royal Trux,
Bauhaus,
Stockholm Monsters,
Mo-Dettes,
Piero Umiliani,
Blake Baxter,
Letta Mbulu,
Derrick May,
Freddie Wadling,
Brothers Johnson,
Soft Cell,
Johnny Osbourne,
Rekid,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers.
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.