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 Norway and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 The Toasters to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Moody Blues. All the underground hits.
All The Gladiators tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pantytec record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pop Group record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grandmaster Flash,
Bootsy Collins,
The Dirtbombs,
Eddi Front,
Crooked Eye,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Harpers Bizarre,
Cymande,
Robert Wyatt,
Subhumans,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Litter,
H. Thieme,
Marvin Gaye,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
EPMD,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Babytalk,
Television,
David McCallum,
Eric Dolphy,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Outsiders,
The Golliwogs,
Toni Rubio,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Fuzztones,
Bob Dylan,
The Fugs,
Tommy Roe,
Pulsallama,
E-Dancer,
The Beau Brummels,
Nas,
Amazonics,
Al Stewart,
the Swans,
The Trojans,
Brick,
Bluetip,
Symarip,
The Moleskins,
Frankie Knuckles,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Surgeon,
Mr. Review,
Duran Duran,
Zero Boys,
Cheater Slicks,
Maleditus Sound,
Terry Callier,
Siglo XX,
Severed Heads,
The Seeds,
The Motions,
Roxette,
Jesper Dahlback,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Laurel Aitken,
New York Dolls,
The Happenings,
Vladislav Delay,
The Blues Magoos,
Sex Pistols,
Lee Hazlewood, Lee Hazlewood, Lee Hazlewood, Lee Hazlewood.
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.