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 Andorra and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 Bologna and London.
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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 John Holt to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Human League. All the underground hits.
All Heavy D & The Boyz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Al Stewart 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barry Ungar record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABBA,
Talk Talk,
Delta 5,
Davy DMX,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Residents,
The Electric Prunes,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Angels of Light,
Vainqueur,
Aaron Thompson,
Mary Jane Girls,
Von Mondo,
Lower 48,
The Fortunes,
Gong,
The Martian,
Frankie Knuckles,
Rod Modell,
Khruangbin,
Trumans Water,
Public Enemy,
The Modern Lovers,
OOIOO,
Jacques Brel,
Boz Scaggs,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Infiniti,
Cal Tjader,
Interpol,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Radio Birdman,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Nico,
Colin Newman,
the Fania All-Stars,
Dave Gahan,
Royal Trux,
Symarip,
Neu!,
The Slackers,
The Monochrome Set,
Jeru the Damaja,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Marvin Gaye,
Fluxion,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Television Personalities,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Mummies,
Boredoms,
JFA,
Max Romeo,
Crispy Ambulance,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Kinks,
Lyres,
Bluetip,
The Star Department,
a-ha,
The Pop Group,
Delon & Dalcan, Delon & Dalcan, Delon & Dalcan, Delon & Dalcan.
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.