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 South Sudan and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 güiro 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 Lafayette Afro Rock Band to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Nation of Ulysses. All the underground hits.
All Leonard Cohen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nik Kershaw 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
E-Dancer,
Jacques Brel,
The Cramps,
The Durutti Column,
Hot Snakes,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Divine Comedy,
the Slits,
The New Christs,
Bobby Hutcherson,
DNA,
the Normal,
Brand Nubian,
Scan 7,
Liliput,
F. McDonald,
X-Ray Spex,
Half Japanese,
June Days,
Metal Thangz,
Bluetip,
Harpers Bizarre,
Lebanon Hanover,
8 Eyed Spy,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Gang of Four,
The J.B.'s,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Au Pairs,
John Cale,
Ludus,
Basic Channel,
Lyres,
Reuben Wilson,
Vladislav Delay,
The Sound,
David McCallum,
Moss Icon,
Television Personalities,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Throbbing Gristle,
Monolake,
Soft Cell,
Essential Logic,
Crooked Eye,
Todd Terry,
Henry Cow,
Ultravox,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
the Germs,
Lakeside,
Popol Vuh,
Index,
OOIOO,
Fluxion,
K-Klass,
Cal Tjader,
Pussy Galore,
Camberwell Now,
Aswad, Aswad, Aswad, Aswad.
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.