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 Eritrea and from Accra.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Niagra to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Slits. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Sherman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultramagnetic MC's record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 808 and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jacques Brel,
The Blues Magoos,
Theoretical Girls,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Parry Music,
Ludus,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Darondo,
The Kinks,
Johnny Osbourne,
Hashim,
Qualms,
Young Marble Giants,
Shoche,
The Count Five,
Janne Schatter,
Black Sheep,
Sexual Harrassment,
T.S.O.L.,
The Gladiators,
Marcia Griffiths,
the Normal,
Jawbox,
Lebanon Hanover,
Neil Young,
Tomorrow,
Saccharine Trust,
Jeru the Damaja,
Rufus Thomas,
Spandau Ballet,
Sarah Menescal,
Erasure,
Slick Rick,
Josef K,
Sonic Youth,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Bobby Womack,
Max Romeo,
Carl Craig,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Jimmy McGriff,
B.T. Express,
David McCallum,
The Leaves,
New York Dolls,
the Bar-Kays,
Lucky Dragons,
Blake Baxter,
Alton Ellis,
Lindisfarne,
Bang On A Can,
Kas Product,
Robert Wyatt,
Khruangbin,
Popol Vuh,
The Golliwogs,
The Monochrome Set,
Inner City,
Rhythm & Sound,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice.
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.