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 Cape Verde and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 8 Eyed Spy 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 Marcia Griffiths. All the underground hits.
All Ajijia Myrayebe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerrie Biddell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brothers Johnson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Duran Duran,
Carl Craig,
Interpol,
Crash Course in Science,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Wire,
Bill Wells,
Ultravox,
Todd Rundgren,
Niagra,
Oblivians,
Big Daddy Kane,
Michelle Simonal,
Dave Gahan,
Harry Pussy,
Quantec,
Kas Product,
Tom Boy,
Wasted Youth,
Skarface,
Crispy Ambulance,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Flamin' Groovies,
Harpers Bizarre,
Guru Guru,
Siglo XX,
Funky Four + One,
John Foxx,
Lucky Dragons,
Crooked Eye,
Charles Mingus,
Sonic Youth,
Graham Central Station,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
EPMD,
The Index,
The Grass Roots,
Lyres,
Panda Bear,
Blake Baxter,
Q and Not U,
Slave,
Bobby Sherman,
Scion,
John Holt,
Ten City,
Eden Ahbez,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Pop Group,
La Düsseldorf,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Ludus,
The Saints,
The Blues Magoos,
The Cure,
Roger Hodgson,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Dead C,
Newcleus,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Grandmaster Flash,
cv313, cv313, cv313, cv313.
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.