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 Tajikistan and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 sitar 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 Ultimate Spinach to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Angels of Light & Akron/Family. All the underground hits.
All Visage tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Depeche Mode record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Visage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Star Department,
The Buckinghams,
X-101,
Ten City,
the Normal,
Camberwell Now,
DJ Style,
Echospace,
Spandau Ballet,
Qualms,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
the Slits,
Babytalk,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Aural Exciters,
Joe Finger,
The Moody Blues,
Minor Threat,
Country Teasers,
Goldenarms,
The Motions,
Stockholm Monsters,
Grey Daturas,
Franke,
the Swans,
Harpers Bizarre,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Wake,
Kaleidoscope,
Mary Jane Girls,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Monks,
Minutemen,
The Shadows of Knight,
Zero Boys,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Gabor Szabo,
Bill Wells,
Chris & Cosey,
Todd Rundgren,
Livin' Joy,
Crispian St. Peters,
Von Mondo,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Negative Approach,
Gerry Rafferty,
Wolf Eyes,
Slave,
Susan Cadogan,
Radiohead,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
La Düsseldorf,
Zapp,
New Age Steppers,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Index,
Dawn Penn,
Blancmange,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Sixth Finger,
Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter.
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.