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 Samoa and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Lille.
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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the oboe 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 K-Klass to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Rapeman. All the underground hits.
All Arthur Verocai tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crash Course in Science record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tres Demented record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Icehouse,
Maurizio,
John Cale,
The Doors,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Black Bananas,
Theoretical Girls,
Newcleus,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Invisible,
The Offenders,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Oblivians,
Radio Birdman,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Toni Rubio,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Cymande,
The Fuzztones,
Wolf Eyes,
Hot Snakes,
Alton Ellis,
Intrusion,
The Slits,
Funkadelic,
Aswad,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Sixth Finger,
the Fania All-Stars,
Schoolly D,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Real Kids,
Throbbing Gristle,
Circle Jerks,
Terry Callier,
The Raincoats,
Sarah Menescal,
Yazoo,
Bronski Beat,
Los Fastidios,
Ronnie Foster,
Scan 7,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Mojo Men,
Dead Boys,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Remains,
Danielle Patucci,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The J.B.'s,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The American Breed,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Tom Boy,
Moss Icon,
Deadbeat,
Tubeway Army, Tubeway Army, Tubeway Army, Tubeway Army.
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.