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 China and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 synthesizer 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 Black Moon to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Fort Wilson Riot. All the underground hits.
All The Flesh Eaters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Altered Images record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
B.T. Express,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Trojans,
Cheater Slicks,
Tres Demented,
Sugar Minott,
Animal Collective,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Nik Kershaw,
Scan 7,
Sam Rivers,
One Last Wish,
Fugazi,
Khruangbin,
Y Pants,
The Moody Blues,
D'Angelo,
Wolf Eyes,
the Normal,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Fat Boys,
Tropical Tobacco,
Wasted Youth,
Country Teasers,
Boz Scaggs,
Bauhaus,
Metal Thangz,
Neu!,
Big Daddy Kane,
Amon Düül II,
Nils Olav,
Quando Quango,
Mary Jane Girls,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
DJ Sneak,
Matthew Bourne,
The Barracudas,
Jimmy McGriff,
Joensuu 1685,
The Smiths,
Yellowson,
Sexual Harrassment,
Byron Stingily,
Spoonie Gee,
UT,
Tubeway Army,
Fatback Band,
JFA,
The Remains,
Agitation Free,
Ronan,
Henry Cow,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Offenders,
Erasure,
The Velvet Underground,
Hardrive,
The American Breed,
The Searchers,
Lucky Dragons,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Residents, The Residents, The Residents, The Residents.
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.