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 Singapore and from Shanghai.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 linndrum 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 Alton Ellis to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Derrick May. All the underground hits.
All Boz Scaggs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Interpol record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slick Rick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Camouflage,
Fluxion,
Freddie Wadling,
New Order,
Crispy Ambulance,
Judy Mowatt,
Glambeats Corp.,
Ossler,
Intrusion,
The Smiths,
The Kinks,
Arthur Verocai,
Nik Kershaw,
The Skatalites,
the Bar-Kays,
Skriet,
Boz Scaggs,
Lee Hazlewood,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Roxette,
Reuben Wilson,
Kaleidoscope,
Radio Birdman,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Alison Limerick,
Maurizio,
Rapeman,
Delta 5,
Magma,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Slackers,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Pierre Henry,
Wally Richardson,
PIL,
Angry Samoans,
Minutemen,
The Seeds,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Lakeside,
Toni Rubio,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Gun Club,
Roy Ayers,
Mandrill,
Mars,
Anthony Braxton,
The Gap Band,
Connie Case,
Hasil Adkins,
Can,
Television Personalities,
Theoretical Girls,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Barracudas,
Grandmaster Flash,
Jacob Miller,
Pharoah Sanders,
Moebius,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Count Five,
Al Stewart,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch, Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch, Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch, Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch.
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.