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 Mozambique and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Portland.
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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Saints to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Theoretical Girls. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ash Ra Tempel 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a L. Decosne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Blues Magoos,
Pole,
Magazine,
The Offenders,
Shuggie Otis,
Jacques Brel,
Alton Ellis,
The Fall,
The Knickerbockers,
Wings,
Rod Modell,
Excepter,
Tropical Tobacco,
Andrew Hill,
Kerrie Biddell,
Godley & Creme,
Fela Kuti,
The Fugs,
Nirvana,
Vladislav Delay,
The Grass Roots,
Nik Kershaw,
Brass Construction,
Banda Bassotti,
The Fire Engines,
Siglo XX,
Tom Boy,
Bang On A Can,
Yaz,
Robert Wyatt,
Babytalk,
The Gun Club,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Residents,
Sparks,
Mr. Review,
Barbara Tucker,
Pulsallama,
Rhythm & Sound,
Anakelly,
Stetsasonic,
Theoretical Girls,
The Monochrome Set,
Moebius,
Essential Logic,
Easy Going,
The Saints,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Mojo Men,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Niagra,
48th St. Collective,
Grey Daturas,
Freddie Wadling,
Davy DMX,
Animal Collective,
The Black Dice,
Dennis Brown,
Pantytec,
Harmonia,
La Düsseldorf,
The Blackbyrds, The Blackbyrds, The Blackbyrds, The Blackbyrds.
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.