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 Mongolia and from Houston.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 sitar 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 Angels of Light & Akron/Family to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Pet Shop Boys. All the underground hits.
All Animal Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hasil Adkins 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Surgeon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DNA,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
World's Most,
Boredoms,
Morten Harket,
Howard Jones,
Warsaw,
Mr. Review,
The Star Department,
Crash Course in Science,
AZ,
Camouflage,
Todd Rundgren,
Bill Wells,
Banda Bassotti,
The Cure,
Cameo,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Gun Club,
One Last Wish,
Marmalade,
The Doors,
Roy Ayers,
Bizarre Inc.,
Black Pus,
Ken Boothe,
Lindisfarne,
Simply Red,
Surgeon,
Erasure,
Glenn Branca,
The Gap Band,
Panda Bear,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Joey Negro,
The Litter,
The Offenders,
Eddi Front,
Hoover,
Accadde A,
Deadbeat,
Hasil Adkins,
Sonny Sharrock,
Scan 7,
Junior Murvin,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Ralphi Rosario,
X-101,
Franke,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Slave,
Bob Dylan,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Sonic Youth,
Charles Mingus,
Pere Ubu,
Henry Cow,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Unrelated Segments,
Matthew Bourne,
10cc, 10cc, 10cc, 10cc.
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.