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 Monaco and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 48th St. Collective. All the underground hits.
All Chrome tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aloha Tigers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 theremin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Basic Channel,
Skaos,
Nils Olav,
World's Most,
Radiohead,
Bob Dylan,
The Dave Clark Five,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Franke,
The Busters,
Girls At Our Best!,
Bronski Beat,
Neil Young,
Aural Exciters,
Dark Day,
The Blackbyrds,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
David McCallum,
Sex Pistols,
Warren Ellis,
Subhumans,
Royal Trux,
Pet Shop Boys,
Accadde A,
Television,
The Five Americans,
L. Decosne,
Traffic Nightmare,
Graham Central Station,
The Moleskins,
Anthony Braxton,
Bootsy Collins,
The Golliwogs,
The Grass Roots,
Man Parrish,
Sight & Sound,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Mars,
David Axelrod,
Patti Smith,
Fatback Band,
Theoretical Girls,
The Fuzztones,
Tomorrow,
T. Rex,
The Wake,
Altered Images,
Dennis Brown,
Warsaw,
The Smiths,
Fad Gadget,
the Germs,
Ken Boothe,
Yazoo,
Flamin' Groovies,
Kayak,
The Martian,
Wings, Wings, Wings, Wings.
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.