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 Paraguay and from Madrid.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 sitar 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 Fluxion to the techno 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 Sisters of Mercy. All the underground hits.
All Dark Day tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grey Daturas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hot Snakes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dawn Penn,
U.S. Maple,
10cc,
Gabor Szabo,
Ice-T,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Hashim,
John Cale,
Soft Cell,
Robert Hood,
The Buckinghams,
Mars,
Bronski Beat,
Lower 48,
Excepter,
Infiniti,
8 Eyed Spy,
Wally Richardson,
World's Most,
DJ Sneak,
The Victims,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Con Funk Shun,
The Modern Lovers,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Make Up,
The Slackers,
Spoonie Gee,
Sex Pistols,
Boz Scaggs,
Blossom Toes,
Jerry's Kids,
Crash Course in Science,
The Angels of Light,
Albert Ayler,
Rod Modell,
Big Daddy Kane,
Gerry Rafferty,
Bobby Sherman,
Man Parrish,
Rites of Spring,
The Techniques,
Public Image Ltd.,
Roxy Music,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Sarah Menescal,
Sugar Minott,
La Düsseldorf,
Reuben Wilson,
Newcleus,
Scan 7,
Alison Limerick,
The Cramps,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Radio Birdman,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Cheater Slicks,
Magma,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Fatback Band,
The Five Americans,
Lou Christie,
Arcadia, Arcadia, Arcadia, Arcadia.
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.