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 Kuwait and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Selecter to the techno 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 Whodini. All the underground hits.
All Camberwell Now tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Beau Brummels 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tropical Tobacco record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cure,
Black Pus,
B.T. Express,
Stiv Bators,
Isaac Hayes,
Kenny Larkin,
Radio Birdman,
Q65,
Mission of Burma,
The Cramps,
Sexual Harrassment,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Bizarre Inc.,
Japan,
Ultravox,
Yaz,
Inner City,
The United States of America,
Henry Cow,
Unwound,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Radiopuhelimet,
Colin Newman,
Bobby Womack,
John Holt,
Lungfish,
Swans,
New Age Steppers,
Amon Düül,
Public Image Ltd.,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Sun City Girls,
Bang On A Can,
The Mummies,
UT,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Saints,
Skarface,
The New Christs,
10cc,
The Moody Blues,
F. McDonald,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Scott Walker,
U.S. Maple,
Stetsasonic,
The Velvet Underground,
Trumans Water,
Barclay James Harvest,
Donny Hathaway,
Scion,
Malaria!,
Yazoo,
Traffic Nightmare,
the Soft Cell,
X-101,
ABC,
Nick Fraelich,
T.S.O.L.,
Qualms,
cv313,
Section 25, Section 25, Section 25, Section 25.
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.