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 Taiwan and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Sun Ra Arkestra to the techno 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 Harpers Bizarre. All the underground hits.
All Crispian St. Peters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Todd Rundgren 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Tremeloes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Certain Ratio,
B.T. Express,
Black Flag,
Davy DMX,
Steve Hackett,
Scott Walker,
Piero Umiliani,
Das Ding,
The Dead C,
The Zeros,
Ultra Naté,
Urselle,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Aloha Tigers,
Con Funk Shun,
Main Source,
Kevin Saunderson,
Cal Tjader,
The Human League,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Mary Jane Girls,
Gichy Dan,
The Dirtbombs,
Los Fastidios,
The Gladiators,
In Retrospect,
Pussy Galore,
Sex Pistols,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Barrington Levy,
Lower 48,
Nas,
Blake Baxter,
The Durutti Column,
The United States of America,
Brothers Johnson,
Max Romeo,
Stetsasonic,
MC5,
The Knickerbockers,
Marmalade,
Pagans,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Kinks,
Scrapy,
Tres Demented,
The Monochrome Set,
Adolescents,
Audionom,
Curtis Mayfield,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Remains,
The Mummies,
Rosa Yemen,
Tom Boy,
Brand Nubian,
The Star Department,
Magazine,
ABC,
Derrick May,
Skaos, Skaos, Skaos, Skaos.
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.