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 Guinea-Bissau and from Houston.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 clarinet 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 The Smiths to the grime 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 Arcadia. All the underground hits.
All Drexciya tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kayak 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Fania All-Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Symarip,
Cymande,
Lower 48,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Hardrive,
Stetsasonic,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Wasted Youth,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Radio Birdman,
The Red Krayola,
Throbbing Gristle,
Babytalk,
Sarah Menescal,
Fugazi,
ABBA,
New Order,
Quantec,
Sam Rivers,
Judy Mowatt,
kango's stein massive,
Wally Richardson,
Tomorrow,
Carl Craig,
Brass Construction,
Amazonics,
Rosa Yemen,
Ice-T,
Flash Fearless,
Y Pants,
The Doobie Brothers,
Marvin Gaye,
Organ,
Howard Jones,
Black Moon,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Morten Harket,
Kas Product,
Lightning Bolt,
Bronski Beat,
Crash Course in Science,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Robert Hood,
Severed Heads,
Rhythm & Sound,
Skriet,
Lakeside,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Sound,
Soft Machine,
Japan,
The Searchers,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Supertramp,
Mr. Review,
Vladislav Delay,
Gil Scott Heron,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Sun City Girls,
Pole,
Lou Christie,
Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles.
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.