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 Senegal and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Cure to the rap 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 Isaac Hayes. All the underground hits.
All Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tommy Roe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bauhaus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pole,
Darondo,
Pagans,
Maurizio,
Tomorrow,
The Kinks,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Hot Snakes,
Chris & Cosey,
Los Fastidios,
Kerrie Biddell,
Dawn Penn,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Robert Wyatt,
Magazine,
Quando Quango,
Eli Mardock,
Eden Ahbez,
Cecil Taylor,
Warren Ellis,
Gichy Dan,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Star Department,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Spandau Ballet,
Swell Maps,
Harry Pussy,
The Young Rascals,
the Sonics,
Hashim,
Byron Stingily,
Das Ding,
Siglo XX,
Bang On A Can,
Yaz,
Swans,
The Index,
Black Sheep,
Gastr Del Sol,
Fat Boys,
PIL,
John Foxx,
The Seeds,
Anakelly,
Ronnie Foster,
Letta Mbulu,
Aswad,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
China Crisis,
Wasted Youth,
KRS-One,
Mandrill,
U.S. Maple,
Morten Harket,
Brick,
The Skatalites,
Depeche Mode,
Moby Grape,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Names,
Gang of Four,
Agent Orange,
ABBA,
the Normal, the Normal, the Normal, the Normal.
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.