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 Taiwan 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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Reuben Wilson to the punk 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 Laurel Aitken. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young & Crazy Horse tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mary Jane Girls 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Charles Mingus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Surgeon,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Gladiators,
Arthur Verocai,
Howard Jones,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Eric Copeland,
Grauzone,
Buzzcocks,
the Soft Cell,
Eric Dolphy,
The Invisible,
Jerry's Kids,
Peter & Gordon,
The Remains,
Graham Central Station,
X-101,
Crispy Ambulance,
Glambeats Corp.,
Traffic Nightmare,
Shoche,
Tommy Roe,
Marmalade,
Mars,
Marvin Gaye,
Nik Kershaw,
Al Stewart,
Saccharine Trust,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Stooges,
Sight & Sound,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Radiohead,
The Motions,
Rites of Spring,
Severed Heads,
Eve St. Jones,
Scratch Acid,
Bush Tetras,
The Misunderstood,
China Crisis,
Franke,
Magazine,
Pantaleimon,
Jeru the Damaja,
Mary Jane Girls,
Alison Limerick,
Hasil Adkins,
Heaven 17,
Rod Modell,
Blossom Toes,
Davy DMX,
Anthony Braxton,
Jandek,
Moss Icon,
Rhythm & Sound,
La Düsseldorf,
Soul II Soul,
Nico,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Organ, Organ, Organ, Organ.
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.