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 Spain and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Henry Cow to the techno 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 Kerrie Biddell. All the underground hits.
All Robert Wyatt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slave 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ 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?
Deepchord,
The Electric Prunes,
Eddi Front,
Ten City,
Donny Hathaway,
Unwound,
The Seeds,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Grass Roots,
Los Fastidios,
Mo-Dettes,
Interpol,
Traffic Nightmare,
Malaria!,
The Young Rascals,
Aural Exciters,
One Last Wish,
Kerri Chandler,
LL Cool J,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Ohio Players,
Sex Pistols,
Bush Tetras,
Index,
Nation of Ulysses,
B.T. Express,
KRS-One,
The Smoke,
Marvin Gaye,
Scratch Acid,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Tom Boy,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Slits,
Au Pairs,
Oneida,
Swell Maps,
John Coltrane,
Al Stewart,
Minor Threat,
Ralphi Rosario,
Deadbeat,
Underground Resistance,
Black Bananas,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Music Machine,
Hoover,
Banda Bassotti,
Pharoah Sanders,
Rites of Spring,
L. Decosne,
Loose Ends,
Hashim,
the Normal,
The Star Department,
Faust,
Pagans,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Girls At Our Best!,
Bang On A Can,
F. McDonald,
The Knickerbockers,
The Fugs,
Technova, Technova, Technova, Technova.
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.