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 Ukraine and from Madrid.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 In Retrospect to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids. All the underground hits.
All Dead Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terry Callier 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gian Franco Pienzio record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Davy DMX,
Bill Near,
Jerry Gold Smith,
B.T. Express,
Drive Like Jehu,
Soft Cell,
Groovy Waters,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Chris & Cosey,
Tres Demented,
The Busters,
The Selecter,
Toni Rubio,
Man Eating Sloth,
Yusef Lateef,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
John Holt,
JFA,
8 Eyed Spy,
Cybotron,
Lakeside,
Fluxion,
Crooked Eye,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Alphaville,
T.S.O.L.,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Franke,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Los Fastidios,
Bluetip,
David McCallum,
The Victims,
The Martian,
Tim Buckley,
The Seeds,
Crispy Ambulance,
Pagans,
Patti Smith,
Qualms,
Sun Ra,
Peter & Gordon,
Spandau Ballet,
Flipper,
the Association,
Black Moon,
Youth Brigade,
Nick Fraelich,
Jeru the Damaja,
Brothers Johnson,
Wire,
Swans,
The Blues Magoos,
The Pretty Things,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Offenders,
the Germs,
D'Angelo,
The Toasters,
Soft Machine,
John Foxx, John Foxx, John Foxx, John Foxx.
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.