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 Palau and from Lyon.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 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 Deadbeat 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 Arab on Radar. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Peanut Butter Conspiracy 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ice-T record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Womack,
Rapeman,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Gun Club,
Mr. Review,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
48th St. Collective,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Doors,
Ohio Players,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Al Stewart,
The Blues Magoos,
Soft Machine,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Jacob Miller,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Knickerbockers,
Los Fastidios,
Iggy Pop,
Soulsonic Force,
Derrick May,
Scion,
Roger Hodgson,
The Count Five,
Dave Gahan,
The Blackbyrds,
The Moleskins,
Mantronix,
Yusef Lateef,
CMW,
Juan Atkins,
Mission of Burma,
Camouflage,
Magazine,
The Monochrome Set,
Black Sheep,
The Fugs,
Quadrant,
Bizarre Inc.,
The J.B.'s,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
8 Eyed Spy,
Sugar Minott,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Japan,
Whodini,
the Human League,
The Real Kids,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Massinfluence,
the Normal,
The Divine Comedy,
Brick,
One Last Wish,
The Red Krayola,
Blancmange, Blancmange, Blancmange, Blancmange.
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.