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 Bhutan and from Accra.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 DJ Sneak to the grunge 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 Girls At Our Best!. All the underground hits.
All Pet Shop Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pagans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fugs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultravox,
Harry Pussy,
Judy Mowatt,
Franke,
Technova,
Interpol,
Scientists,
Arab on Radar,
the Normal,
Oneida,
Skarface,
Quantec,
Fela Kuti,
Blancmange,
ABC,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Charles Mingus,
Wally Richardson,
Soft Cell,
Whodini,
Jacques Brel,
Quadrant,
Talk Talk,
Yusef Lateef,
Terry Callier,
The Dave Clark Five,
Blake Baxter,
Rufus Thomas,
Radiohead,
Ludus,
Television Personalities,
Niagra,
Gerry Rafferty,
Silicon Teens,
Joyce Sims,
Black Moon,
Max Romeo,
Alice Coltrane,
The Raincoats,
Crooked Eye,
JFA,
The Fortunes,
Graham Central Station,
Ornette Coleman,
Kerrie Biddell,
Wolf Eyes,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Fuzztones,
Rakim,
UT,
Chrome,
Fat Boys,
New Order,
Skriet,
Malaria!,
Animal Collective,
the Association,
The J.B.'s,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Roy Ayers,
Severed Heads, Severed Heads, Severed Heads, Severed Heads.
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.