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 Vietnam and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 mellotron 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 Eric B and Rakim to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Jeff Mills. All the underground hits.
All Heaven 17 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hasil Adkins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Raincoats record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kerrie Biddell,
Drive Like Jehu,
Royal Trux,
Gabor Szabo,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Au Pairs,
Tomorrow,
Mr. Review,
The Residents,
The Martian,
Leonard Cohen,
Amazonics,
Aloha Tigers,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Zapp,
Neil Young,
Mo-Dettes,
Charles Mingus,
Severed Heads,
Man Parrish,
Minutemen,
Glenn Branca,
Bang On A Can,
Crispian St. Peters,
Porter Ricks,
Funkadelic,
Gregory Isaacs,
Pere Ubu,
Fatback Band,
Nils Olav,
Fluxion,
The J.B.'s,
Matthew Bourne,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Bill Near,
Visage,
John Coltrane,
The Human League,
Cecil Taylor,
Easy Going,
The Music Machine,
Fat Boys,
Oblivians,
Gang Gang Dance,
Kerri Chandler,
The Gladiators,
Second Layer,
John Holt,
Gil Scott Heron,
Brick,
Erykah Badu,
Little Man,
X-101,
Cluster,
Jacques Brel,
The Birthday Party,
The Invisible,
Aural Exciters,
Crime,
the Slits,
Alphaville, Alphaville, Alphaville, Alphaville.
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.