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 Tanzania and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 808 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 The Kinks to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo. All the underground hits.
All Television tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Michelle Simonal 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gong record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Delon & Dalcan,
The Barracudas,
The Selecter,
Avey Tare,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Al Stewart,
Livin' Joy,
Rapeman,
Radiopuhelimet,
Frankie Knuckles,
Wings,
Drive Like Jehu,
T.S.O.L.,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Moleskins,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Angry Samoans,
Sam Rivers,
John Holt,
the Bar-Kays,
Marc Almond,
the Human League,
Kaleidoscope,
Smog,
Black Moon,
The Blackbyrds,
The Buckinghams,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Aloha Tigers,
Kool Moe Dee,
Scan 7,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
This Heat,
Eric B and Rakim,
John Lydon,
Sarah Menescal,
Subhumans,
Glenn Branca,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Tommy Roe,
Arab on Radar,
Harry Pussy,
Brick,
Terrestrial Tones,
Stiv Bators,
Y Pants,
F. McDonald,
Connie Case,
Camouflage,
Bronski Beat,
Brothers Johnson,
The Cramps,
Whodini,
Nils Olav,
Roger Hodgson,
The Golliwogs,
Black Sheep,
The Neon Judgement,
The Music Machine,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo.
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.