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 Nicaragua and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Lagos.
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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Funky Four + One to the crunk 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 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds. All the underground hits.
All Aural Exciters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Sheep 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 an organ and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Absolute Body Control record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Das Ding,
Eli Mardock,
Amazonics,
The Slackers,
Dawn Penn,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Kenny Larkin,
The Zeros,
Crispian St. Peters,
X-102,
The Knickerbockers,
Blake Baxter,
Whodini,
Eric Copeland,
Throbbing Gristle,
Groovy Waters,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Tremeloes,
Kayak,
Severed Heads,
Gang Green,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Icehouse,
Godley & Creme,
Man Parrish,
Ossler,
Pussy Galore,
The Misunderstood,
Masters at Work,
These Immortal Souls,
Au Pairs,
The Gories,
Spandau Ballet,
Slave,
Aloha Tigers,
The Neon Judgement,
Scrapy,
Gil Scott Heron,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Minny Pops,
K-Klass,
Erykah Badu,
Henry Cow,
Gabor Szabo,
Stiv Bators,
Camouflage,
Moby Grape,
Trumans Water,
Sound Behaviour,
Rhythm & Sound,
Procol Harum,
The Raincoats,
Porter Ricks,
Eddi Front,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Josef K,
Cymande,
Make Up,
Cecil Taylor,
Yazoo,
Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk.
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.