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 Cyprus and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Minor Threat to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Nation of Ulysses. All the underground hits.
All Moby Grape tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fatback Band 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DJ Sneak record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Boredoms,
Rekid,
Bush Tetras,
Unrelated Segments,
the Fania All-Stars,
Outsiders,
The Pretty Things,
Skaos,
Lyres,
MDC,
Albert Ayler,
Moss Icon,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Bootsy Collins,
Sparks,
Cluster,
Henry Cow,
Ohio Players,
Pulsallama,
The Walker Brothers,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
FM Einheit,
The Vogues,
Dead Boys,
Bill Wells,
Blossom Toes,
Swans,
Lou Christie,
Sex Pistols,
Mark Hollis,
Chris Corsano,
China Crisis,
Susan Cadogan,
Deakin,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Dave Clark Five,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Tomorrow,
John Foxx,
Alphaville,
The Cowsills,
X-102,
Eyeless In Gaza,
the Association,
Country Teasers,
Wolf Eyes,
Gabor Szabo,
Bluetip,
Graham Central Station,
Kenny Larkin,
Faraquet,
Lindisfarne,
Black Bananas,
The Gladiators,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Fad Gadget,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Happenings,
Yaz,
The Gun Club, The Gun Club, The Gun Club, The Gun Club.
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.