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 Seychelles and from Accra.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 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 Marc Almond to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 The Pop Group. All the underground hits.
All The American Breed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terrestrial Tones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dorothy Ashby,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
World's Most,
Masters at Work,
Graham Central Station,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Marc Almond,
The Dirtbombs,
Dennis Brown,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Wally Richardson,
The Saints,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Swell Maps,
Fear,
Trumans Water,
The Durutti Column,
The Smiths,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Spoonie Gee,
Public Image Ltd.,
Reuben Wilson,
Erykah Badu,
Jeru the Damaja,
Blossom Toes,
Byron Stingily,
Lee Hazlewood,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Soulsonic Force,
Yellowson,
Black Pus,
Newcleus,
Funky Four + One,
Parry Music,
Marmalade,
Minor Threat,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
ABC,
The Cowsills,
Maurizio,
Essential Logic,
Little Man,
Average White Band,
Amon Düül II,
the Normal,
Bizarre Inc.,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Raincoats,
Stetsasonic,
Kevin Saunderson,
Robert Hood,
Susan Cadogan,
China Crisis,
T. Rex,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Jeff Lynne,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Misunderstood,
Flash Fearless, Flash Fearless, Flash Fearless, Flash Fearless.
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.