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 Guinea-Bissau and from Mexico City.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 The Detroit Cobras to the grime 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 Mission of Burma. All the underground hits.
All A Certain Ratio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bob Dylan 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 8 Eyed Spy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Flag,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
the Sonics,
Derrick Morgan,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Lucky Dragons,
Prince Buster,
Lalann,
The Sound,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Letta Mbulu,
Moebius,
The Black Dice,
Radiopuhelimet,
Barbara Tucker,
Gang Green,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Make Up,
Altered Images,
The Flesh Eaters,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Deakin,
Stereo Dub,
The Names,
Connie Case,
Althea and Donna,
Faraquet,
Wire,
Suburban Knight,
A Certain Ratio,
Barclay James Harvest,
Andrew Hill,
Chris & Cosey,
Basic Channel,
Slick Rick,
Popol Vuh,
Lou Christie,
Eric Copeland,
Dawn Penn,
Minutemen,
Soft Cell,
Scion,
The Litter,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Beau Brummels,
Schoolly D,
Jeff Lynne,
Yazoo,
Matthew Halsall,
Wolf Eyes,
Siglo XX,
World's Most,
Man Eating Sloth,
Gastr Del Sol,
Ronan,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
John Lydon,
Marmalade,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats.
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.