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 Lesotho and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Moss Icon to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Dave Clark Five. All the underground hits.
All The Blackbyrds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alice Coltrane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Television record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lakeside,
Reagan Youth,
Outsiders,
Lalo Schifrin,
June of 44,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Knickerbockers,
Dual Sessions,
the Fania All-Stars,
Cymande,
Jacques Brel,
Faraquet,
Rites of Spring,
The Music Machine,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Velvet Underground,
Barry Ungar,
Jacob Miller,
Radio Birdman,
The Last Poets,
Fugazi,
The Golliwogs,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Moleskins,
Johnny Osbourne,
Minor Threat,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Surgeon,
Unwound,
Man Parrish,
John Holt,
The Barracudas,
The Real Kids,
Bobby Sherman,
Das Ding,
The Mummies,
Marmalade,
James White and The Blacks,
Siglo XX,
Talk Talk,
Urselle,
Stetsasonic,
These Immortal Souls,
Organ,
Con Funk Shun,
Matthew Halsall,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Kinks,
John Lydon,
Grey Daturas,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Nation of Ulysses,
Gastr Del Sol,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Ralphi Rosario,
Moebius,
Funkadelic,
Boogie Down Productions,
Isaac Hayes,
Eurythmics,
The Zeros,
Brand Nubian,
Skarface, Skarface, Skarface, Skarface.
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.