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 Cyprus and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 snare 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 DNA to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Sound. All the underground hits.
All June of 44 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dorothy Ashby record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 a guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deadbeat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet 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?
Bauhaus,
Mary Jane Girls,
Bizarre Inc.,
Darondo,
Fear,
Crash Course in Science,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Music Machine,
D'Angelo,
Agent Orange,
Pylon,
Jeff Lynne,
MDC,
The Count Five,
Los Fastidios,
The Sonics,
Q and Not U,
Gil Scott Heron,
X-Ray Spex,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Rod Modell,
Marvin Gaye,
Anakelly,
Marshall Jefferson,
Gang Green,
Connie Case,
The Barracudas,
Jacob Miller,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Jerry's Kids,
the Fania All-Stars,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Wire,
Jesper Dahlback,
Dennis Brown,
Unrelated Segments,
The Stooges,
Glenn Branca,
Todd Rundgren,
Agitation Free,
Lindisfarne,
Desert Stars,
Metal Thangz,
Brothers Johnson,
Donald Byrd,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
John Coltrane,
H. Thieme,
Television,
Groovy Waters,
Roger Hodgson,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Deadbeat,
Eve St. Jones,
Harry Pussy,
Trumans Water,
The Modern Lovers,
Dead Boys,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Index,
Pagans, Pagans, Pagans, Pagans.
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.