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 Marshall Islands and from Copenhagen.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 David Bowie 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 Pet Shop Boys to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 8 Eyed Spy. All the underground hits.
All Leonard Cohen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rhythm & Sound 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Funky Four + One,
Make Up,
Pantytec,
Shuggie Otis,
The Doobie Brothers,
Donny Hathaway,
Harry Pussy,
Symarip,
The Searchers,
The Count Five,
The Dead C,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Scion,
Brass Construction,
Thee Headcoats,
David Axelrod,
Blake Baxter,
Mo-Dettes,
Gang of Four,
Rapeman,
MC5,
UT,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Henry Cow,
The Names,
Negative Approach,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Slackers,
The Motions,
Lou Christie,
Q65,
Magma,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Joy Division,
Gerry Rafferty,
Marshall Jefferson,
Country Teasers,
Silicon Teens,
Hoover,
the Germs,
Minutemen,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Fugs,
The J.B.'s,
The Divine Comedy,
Porter Ricks,
H. Thieme,
New York Dolls,
Mark Hollis,
Johnny Osbourne,
Mary Jane Girls,
Brand Nubian,
Max Romeo,
Anakelly,
Popol Vuh,
Gang Starr,
The Blackbyrds,
Yaz,
Rod Modell,
Panda Bear,
Lungfish,
Drive Like Jehu,
Throbbing Gristle,
Fugazi, Fugazi, Fugazi, Fugazi.
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.