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 South Africa and from Cairo.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Bologna.
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 mellotron 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 Country Joe & The Fish to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Young Marble Giants. All the underground hits.
All The Stooges tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 10cc record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mr. Review,
Moss Icon,
Ralphi Rosario,
Peter and Kerry,
Kurtis Blow,
the Association,
Mad Mike,
Black Sheep,
Ossler,
T.S.O.L.,
Swans,
The Pretty Things,
The Searchers,
Amon Düül,
Pharoah Sanders,
New Order,
The Shadows of Knight,
Technova,
Newcleus,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Wolf Eyes,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Scrapy,
Eli Mardock,
Gong,
Suburban Knight,
Rhythm & Sound,
Lower 48,
Michelle Simonal,
John Holt,
Organ,
Cluster,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Offenders,
Yaz,
the Normal,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Lou Reed,
Half Japanese,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Vogues,
Radiopuhelimet,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Crime,
Minnie Riperton,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Sam Rivers,
Stiv Bators,
Metal Thangz,
Nik Kershaw,
Maleditus Sound,
Popol Vuh,
X-Ray Spex,
Leonard Cohen,
Ultravox,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Howard Jones,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Audionom,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Bronski Beat,
Darondo, Darondo, Darondo, Darondo.
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.