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 Chile and from Columbus.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 Lou Reed 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 A Certain Ratio to the dance 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade. All the underground hits.
All Los Fastidios tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Depeche Mode record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Youth Brigade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blake Baxter,
Reagan Youth,
The Searchers,
Spoonie Gee,
Kerrie Biddell,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Prince Buster,
Eric B and Rakim,
Godley & Creme,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Lalo Schifrin,
Marc Almond,
Lightning Bolt,
Nik Kershaw,
Subhumans,
Derrick May,
Jacob Miller,
Malaria!,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Symarip,
The Dead C,
Jimmy McGriff,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Boogie Down Productions,
Crispian St. Peters,
Slick Rick,
Laurel Aitken,
Amon Düül,
The American Breed,
Harry Pussy,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Aswad,
Gastr Del Sol,
Rapeman,
AZ,
Wasted Youth,
Bush Tetras,
Black Flag,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Durutti Column,
The Star Department,
Todd Terry,
Mad Mike,
Delta 5,
John Cale,
The Saints,
Neu!,
David Bowie,
Lucky Dragons,
Deakin,
Hot Snakes,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Flipper,
Althea and Donna,
Terry Callier,
Dave Gahan,
Bluetip,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Slits,
Infiniti,
Lee Hazlewood, Lee Hazlewood, Lee Hazlewood, Lee Hazlewood.
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.