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 Malawi and from New York.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 linndrum 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 Hardrive to the rock 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 Bronski Beat. All the underground hits.
All Theoretical Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Searchers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a London Community Gospel Choir record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oneida,
EPMD,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Arab on Radar,
Pantytec,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Rites of Spring,
The Smiths,
Barclay James Harvest,
MC5,
Warsaw,
Moss Icon,
The Kinks,
Lyres,
Mandrill,
The Monks,
Bad Manners,
Ultimate Spinach,
the Bar-Kays,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Gories,
Black Sheep,
Scott Walker,
Second Layer,
Depeche Mode,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Dorothy Ashby,
James White and The Blacks,
Brothers Johnson,
Yaz,
Essential Logic,
Steve Hackett,
Scrapy,
CMW,
Das Ding,
Sun City Girls,
The Fuzztones,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Darondo,
The Doors,
ABC,
Jimmy McGriff,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Lee Hazlewood,
Electric Prunes,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The New Christs,
Gabor Szabo,
Hot Snakes,
Delon & Dalcan,
Lower 48,
The Beau Brummels,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Slits,
the Slits,
Monks,
Max Romeo,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Judy Mowatt,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft, Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft, Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft, Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft.
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.