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 Tonga and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 synthesizer 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 Nation of Ulysses to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Bauhaus. All the underground hits.
All Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kurtis Blow 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Johnny Clarke,
Suicide,
Half Japanese,
The Tremeloes,
James White and The Blacks,
Massinfluence,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Fuzztones,
Severed Heads,
Grauzone,
Man Parrish,
Hot Snakes,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Moleskins,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Deakin,
Aaron Thompson,
X-102,
Reuben Wilson,
Danielle Patucci,
Susan Cadogan,
The Blackbyrds,
Television,
Pantytec,
Blancmange,
Bill Near,
The Invisible,
Desert Stars,
The Human League,
Liliput,
Tom Boy,
Rosa Yemen,
Connie Case,
The Detroit Cobras,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Piero Umiliani,
Ohio Players,
Malaria!,
Ultra Naté,
Boogie Down Productions,
Y Pants,
Masters at Work,
June Days,
Ossler,
The Slits,
Lou Reed,
Monolake,
The Sound,
The Leaves,
Rekid,
DJ Style,
Traffic Nightmare,
The J.B.'s,
Darondo,
Eddi Front,
Sonic Youth,
The Raincoats,
The Young Rascals,
The Last Poets,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill.
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.