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 Palau and from Calgary.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and London.
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 Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the organ 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 Johnny Clarke to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Gang Starr. All the underground hits.
All The Jesus and Mary Chain tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magma 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soft Cell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Saints,
Smog,
Gong,
New York Dolls,
Black Pus,
Amazonics,
Steve Hackett,
Charles Mingus,
Bluetip,
Fear,
Motorama,
David Bowie,
Rakim,
A Certain Ratio,
Lebanon Hanover,
Ronnie Foster,
Joyce Sims,
OOIOO,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Procol Harum,
Howard Jones,
Nik Kershaw,
Marvin Gaye,
Groovy Waters,
Wire,
the Fania All-Stars,
Wasted Youth,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Symarip,
Soul Sonic Force,
Skriet,
Flipper,
Henry Cow,
DJ Sneak,
Dorothy Ashby,
Fad Gadget,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Popol Vuh,
Pole,
ABC,
Johnny Osbourne,
Sällskapet,
The Seeds,
Mission of Burma,
Eric Dolphy,
Iggy Pop,
Sixth Finger,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Ludus,
Mars,
Cheater Slicks,
Harmonia,
The Barracudas,
FM Einheit,
Television,
The Fuzztones,
Spandau Ballet,
Supertramp,
Khruangbin,
The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes.
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.