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 Zimbabwe and from Mumbai.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 John Lydon to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Tim Buckley. All the underground hits.
All Slave tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Count Five record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 a marimba and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stockholm Monsters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Almond,
Ten City,
Boz Scaggs,
Black Flag,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
A Certain Ratio,
Roy Ayers,
Talk Talk,
The Dirtbombs,
Monolake,
Johnny Osbourne,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Fortunes,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Archie Shepp,
Mad Mike,
The Fire Engines,
David McCallum,
Technova,
Radio Birdman,
The Golliwogs,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Searchers,
Bootsy Collins,
Tim Buckley,
Soft Cell,
Hardrive,
Gabor Szabo,
Grandmaster Flash,
Agent Orange,
the Fania All-Stars,
Funkadelic,
Fad Gadget,
The Flesh Eaters,
Q65,
Essential Logic,
Saccharine Trust,
Dawn Penn,
Scan 7,
The Walker Brothers,
Hot Snakes,
Minnie Riperton,
The Barracudas,
Deakin,
Harpers Bizarre,
Fear,
Pulsallama,
Iggy Pop,
Judy Mowatt,
Eurythmics,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Livin' Joy,
Eddi Front,
Pere Ubu,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Angels of Light,
Nirvana,
FM Einheit,
The Star Department,
James White and The Blacks,
The Selecter,
KRS-One, KRS-One, KRS-One, KRS-One.
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.