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 Bhutan and from Portland.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 clarinet 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 X-101 to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Y Pants. All the underground hits.
All Eric B and Rakim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scan 7 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 808 and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eli Mardock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Symarip,
The Angels of Light,
In Retrospect,
the Soft Cell,
Amazonics,
Prince Buster,
The Trojans,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Black Bananas,
Charles Mingus,
The Leaves,
Wasted Youth,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Rod Modell,
The Sonics,
OOIOO,
Dual Sessions,
Camouflage,
Eric B and Rakim,
John Holt,
Fat Boys,
Nas,
Scratch Acid,
Camberwell Now,
T.S.O.L.,
Sex Pistols,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Drexciya,
June Days,
Tears for Fears,
Newcleus,
Deepchord,
Aswad,
Crooked Eye,
Little Man,
Andrew Hill,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Blues Magoos,
Roy Ayers,
Lyres,
Slick Rick,
Thompson Twins,
The Moody Blues,
Eve St. Jones,
Marmalade,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Goldenarms,
Bobby Byrd,
Ronan,
Roger Hodgson,
Groovy Waters,
Barbara Tucker,
Rufus Thomas,
Country Teasers,
Aaron Thompson,
Duran Duran, Duran Duran, Duran Duran, Duran Duran.
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.