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 Egypt and from Sao Paulo.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 New Age Steppers to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Black Moon. All the underground hits.
All The United States of America tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lightning Bolt 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Man Eating Sloth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Moon,
Simply Red,
Niagra,
Crispy Ambulance,
Warren Ellis,
Sex Pistols,
Angry Samoans,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Prince Buster,
Jandek,
Icehouse,
Urselle,
Ossler,
One Last Wish,
Black Pus,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Index,
Loose Ends,
Mary Jane Girls,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Smiths,
Al Stewart,
Section 25,
Heaven 17,
Patti Smith,
Fluxion,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Andrew Hill,
Marvin Gaye,
Pere Ubu,
The Golliwogs,
Carl Craig,
Mission of Burma,
Dennis Brown,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Ten City,
Pagans,
The Shadows of Knight,
Kurtis Blow,
Make Up,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Arthur Verocai,
Buzzcocks,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Radiopuhelimet,
Rod Modell,
Nils Olav,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
the Swans,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Ice-T,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Eric Dolphy,
The Mummies,
The Human League,
Boogie Down Productions,
DJ Sneak,
Sonic Youth,
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.