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 Afghanistan and from Johannesburg.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Monks to the funk 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 Sly & The Family Stone. All the underground hits.
All Funky Four + One tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every FM Einheit 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bill Wells record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hoover,
Q65,
Scott Walker,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Lee Hazlewood,
Grey Daturas,
The Barracudas,
Hashim,
Pere Ubu,
The Fortunes,
Harpers Bizarre,
Ultravox,
A Certain Ratio,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Gories,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Sam Rivers,
Lightning Bolt,
Brothers Johnson,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Scion,
Blancmange,
Danielle Patucci,
Rotary Connection,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Barrington Levy,
Suburban Knight,
The Gun Club,
Sugar Minott,
Banda Bassotti,
Lakeside,
Basic Channel,
Toni Rubio,
Soft Cell,
Pulsallama,
The Techniques,
The Gladiators,
The Vogues,
Gang Starr,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Dirtbombs,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Real Kids,
Grandmaster Flash,
John Holt,
Godley & Creme,
Spandau Ballet,
Intrusion,
Agitation Free,
Mark Hollis,
The Remains,
Moby Grape,
The Birthday Party,
Gichy Dan,
Tomorrow,
Donald Byrd,
Tres Demented,
Lindisfarne,
Agent Orange,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Roxette,
A Flock of Seagulls,
the Human League, the Human League, the Human League, the Human League.
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.