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 Sri Lanka and from Columbus.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Davy DMX to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Theoretical Girls. All the underground hits.
All Tropical Tobacco tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispy Ambulance 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ajijia Myrayebe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Severed Heads,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Graham Central Station,
Neil Young,
Basic Channel,
The Fall,
Fort Wilson Riot,
L. Decosne,
Oblivians,
Colin Newman,
Grey Daturas,
Hasil Adkins,
the Association,
Rosa Yemen,
Ten City,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Crispian St. Peters,
David Bowie,
June Days,
Toni Rubio,
The Slackers,
The Victims,
Deepchord,
Bush Tetras,
Sparks,
Intrusion,
Whodini,
Bad Manners,
Ohio Players,
Iggy Pop,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Eddi Front,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Dirtbombs,
Minor Threat,
Roxette,
Sugar Minott,
The Golliwogs,
A Certain Ratio,
Alison Limerick,
Spandau Ballet,
Prince Buster,
Al Stewart,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Angels of Light,
Gong,
Spoonie Gee,
The Motions,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Cure,
Urselle,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Standells,
Idris Muhammad,
Lyres,
Hashim,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Eve St. Jones,
Reagan Youth,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters.
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.