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 South Sudan and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Toronto.
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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Magma to the punk 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 Man Eating Sloth. All the underground hits.
All The Toasters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stereo Dub record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Siouxsie and the Banshees record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord 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?
Adolescents,
Tears for Fears,
the Bar-Kays,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Main Source,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Dorothy Ashby,
Bush Tetras,
PIL,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Youth Brigade,
Nation of Ulysses,
Pantytec,
The New Christs,
Rapeman,
Saccharine Trust,
The Gun Club,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Wasted Youth,
10cc,
Maurizio,
Lindisfarne,
The Sonics,
Neu!,
Throbbing Gristle,
Arab on Radar,
Sexual Harrassment,
Bill Near,
Alison Limerick,
Erykah Badu,
The Five Americans,
Bobby Womack,
The Doobie Brothers,
Dead Boys,
Judy Mowatt,
Black Bananas,
Tom Boy,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Trojans,
Pharoah Sanders,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Amon Düül II,
Johnny Clarke,
Crime,
The Pretty Things,
E-Dancer,
Mr. Review,
Tomorrow,
Fugazi,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Groovy Waters,
Black Moon,
Yusef Lateef,
Brass Construction,
The Alarm Clocks,
Metal Thangz,
LL Cool J,
Eurythmics,
June of 44,
Swans,
Gichy Dan,
Johnny Osbourne,
Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps.
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.