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 Seychelles and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 guitar 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 Bronski Beat to the electroclash 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 The Star Department. All the underground hits.
All Steve Hackett tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Smog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Parrish,
The Saints,
Kayak,
The Monks,
Intrusion,
The Fall,
The Barracudas,
Kerrie Biddell,
H. Thieme,
Dawn Penn,
Nas,
La Düsseldorf,
The Electric Prunes,
Man Eating Sloth,
Pussy Galore,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
the Normal,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Lou Reed,
Bobby Sherman,
Sun City Girls,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Moss Icon,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Darondo,
Make Up,
Minutemen,
The Beau Brummels,
Grey Daturas,
Von Mondo,
Gong,
Bad Manners,
The Sound,
Anthony Braxton,
Main Source,
Andrew Hill,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Electric Prunes,
The Victims,
Barrington Levy,
Harmonia,
Sam Rivers,
E-Dancer,
Byron Stingily,
Deepchord,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Sparks,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Index,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Bootsy Collins,
The Cure,
Blossom Toes,
Panda Bear,
Robert Görl,
New York Dolls,
Television,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Donny Hathaway,
The Moleskins,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))), Scott Walker + Sunn O))), Scott Walker + Sunn O))), Scott Walker + Sunn O))).
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.