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 Guinea-Bissau and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Portland.
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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Supertramp to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Beau Brummels. All the underground hits.
All Dead Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New Order 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Traffic Nightmare record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Metal Thangz,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Average White Band,
Lebanon Hanover,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Smiths,
Neil Young,
The Cure,
The Mummies,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Vladislav Delay,
Chrome,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Glambeats Corp.,
Erykah Badu,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Flamin' Groovies,
The J.B.'s,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Faust,
Fluxion,
Ronnie Foster,
Maurizio,
Roy Ayers,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The United States of America,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Sonics,
Boogie Down Productions,
John Cale,
Ronan,
Flipper,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Radio Birdman,
Excepter,
Tomorrow,
Tim Buckley,
Ice-T,
Hoover,
Gerry Rafferty,
Johnny Clarke,
The Gun Club,
Man Parrish,
Au Pairs,
Bill Wells,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Animal Collective,
Los Fastidios,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Robert Wyatt,
Black Flag,
Dennis Brown,
a-ha,
MDC,
The Dead C,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Brick,
Saccharine Trust,
Guru Guru,
Neu!,
Jawbox,
The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks.
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.