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 Paraguay and from Accra.
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 Beijing and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 spring reverb 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 Public Enemy to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Manfred Mann's Earth Band. All the underground hits.
All Derrick May tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Larry & the Blue Notes 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 güiro and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Chocolate Watch Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ossler,
Slick Rick,
Tomorrow,
Harry Pussy,
Underground Resistance,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Wire,
Cecil Taylor,
Byron Stingily,
R.M.O.,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Litter,
CMW,
Eden Ahbez,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Khruangbin,
New Order,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Index,
La Düsseldorf,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Angry Samoans,
UT,
Country Joe & The Fish,
JFA,
New Age Steppers,
The Saints,
Bootsy Collins,
Altered Images,
Maurizio,
This Heat,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
June of 44,
Marshall Jefferson,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
E-Dancer,
Organ,
Crash Course in Science,
Howard Jones,
The Cure,
Lee Hazlewood,
Radio Birdman,
David Bowie,
Mission of Burma,
Rod Modell,
Main Source,
Gang of Four,
Sam Rivers,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Dirtbombs,
The Count Five,
Tres Demented,
Circle Jerks,
Leonard Cohen,
Absolute Body Control,
Fat Boys,
Roger Hodgson,
The Skatalites,
Liliput,
Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike.
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.