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 Gambia and from Glasgow.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Cowsills to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Moss Icon. All the underground hits.
All The Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Half Japanese record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DNA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Black Dice,
Electric Prunes,
Scan 7,
The Star Department,
Talk Talk,
Dawn Penn,
U.S. Maple,
Michelle Simonal,
F. McDonald,
D'Angelo,
Glambeats Corp.,
Pharoah Sanders,
Hashim,
Subhumans,
Crispian St. Peters,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Theoretical Girls,
Youth Brigade,
Johnny Osbourne,
Marcia Griffiths,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Cure,
James White and The Blacks,
Lakeside,
Jacques Brel,
Los Fastidios,
Iggy Pop,
Nation of Ulysses,
Echospace,
Organ,
Little Man,
Rosa Yemen,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Alice Coltrane,
Drexciya,
Todd Terry,
Intrusion,
EPMD,
Bizarre Inc.,
Arthur Verocai,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Doors,
Mandrill,
PIL,
Moby Grape,
Monks,
John Coltrane,
Laurel Aitken,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Young Rascals,
Motorama,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Tim Buckley,
The Fugs,
Sandy B,
The Real Kids,
Rekid,
Hot Snakes,
Erykah Badu,
China Crisis,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Offenders, The Offenders, The Offenders, The Offenders.
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.