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 Moldova and from Woodstock.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 Boogie Down Productions to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Half Japanese. All the underground hits.
All Chrome tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Prince Buster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sarah Menescal record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glambeats Corp.,
Excepter,
Main Source,
Youth Brigade,
Severed Heads,
Rod Modell,
Jesper Dahlback,
Thee Headcoats,
Crime,
The Happenings,
Aloha Tigers,
La Düsseldorf,
David Bowie,
Moby Grape,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Erykah Badu,
Cheater Slicks,
Tim Buckley,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Kas Product,
Q65,
Lower 48,
Bush Tetras,
The Zeros,
Theoretical Girls,
Crispian St. Peters,
Absolute Body Control,
John Cale,
Magma,
The Velvet Underground,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Monochrome Set,
Kurtis Blow,
Sonny Sharrock,
Ohio Players,
Scan 7,
Surgeon,
Gang Starr,
Marmalade,
The Knickerbockers,
The Victims,
Young Marble Giants,
Cluster,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Susan Cadogan,
Zero Boys,
Radiohead,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Sarah Menescal,
Flamin' Groovies,
Boz Scaggs,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Alphaville,
Patti Smith,
New York Dolls,
The Litter,
Byron Stingily,
Alice Coltrane,
Curtis Mayfield,
Eric B and Rakim,
Siglo XX,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Isaac Hayes, Isaac Hayes, Isaac Hayes, Isaac Hayes.
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.