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 Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 Robert Palmer 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Second Layer. All the underground hits.
All The Buckinghams tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Pretty Things 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Massinfluence record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Scott Walker,
Blancmange,
Prince Buster,
The Remains,
Panda Bear,
Television,
E-Dancer,
Symarip,
Angry Samoans,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Blues Magoos,
Archie Shepp,
The Human League,
Con Funk Shun,
Pantaleimon,
Little Man,
Sex Pistols,
Flipper,
Quando Quango,
June of 44,
John Coltrane,
Ossler,
Pantytec,
the Slits,
Zero Boys,
Deakin,
Tom Boy,
The Last Poets,
Skaos,
Roxette,
Dead Boys,
Ponytail,
JFA,
Eden Ahbez,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Blossom Toes,
David Bowie,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
This Heat,
ABBA,
Jandek,
Shoche,
Kerrie Biddell,
Ludus,
Amon Düül,
Lebanon Hanover,
Traffic Nightmare,
Surgeon,
Wolf Eyes,
Marc Almond,
Metal Thangz,
The Moleskins,
Model 500,
Excepter,
The Electric Prunes,
Sällskapet,
Funky Four + One,
Masters at Work,
Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green.
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.