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 Equatorial Guinea and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 mellotron 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 Howard Jones to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Raincoats. All the underground hits.
All A Certain Ratio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Desert Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 güiro and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
World's Most,
Audionom,
Malaria!,
The Fugs,
Panda Bear,
The Doors,
Mr. Review,
Animal Collective,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Sonics,
Massinfluence,
Nas,
Accadde A,
Robert Görl,
John Holt,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Ponytail,
Wally Richardson,
L. Decosne,
The Human League,
Dorothy Ashby,
Tears for Fears,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
UT,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Victims,
Lightning Bolt,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Iggy Pop,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Cluster,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Groovy Waters,
Matthew Halsall,
The Busters,
Gang of Four,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Stetsasonic,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Misunderstood,
Maleditus Sound,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Pop Group,
Grey Daturas,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Echospace,
Roxy Music,
Lyres,
Laurel Aitken,
Barbara Tucker,
H. Thieme,
Organ,
Ken Boothe,
Marcia Griffiths,
Pussy Galore,
Surgeon,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.