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 Kuwait and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in 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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 clarinet 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 Harry Pussy to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Idris Muhammad. All the underground hits.
All Deepchord tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Green 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stetsasonic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yazoo,
Funky Four + One,
Man Eating Sloth,
Jerry's Kids,
the Normal,
Ice-T,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Rod Modell,
Colin Newman,
Kurtis Blow,
Man Parrish,
Todd Terry,
Duran Duran,
Sister Nancy,
Cal Tjader,
Marc Almond,
Robert Hood,
Eden Ahbez,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Smog,
Stereo Dub,
June of 44,
Sex Pistols,
Charles Mingus,
Shuggie Otis,
Moby Grape,
Hot Snakes,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Agitation Free,
Archie Shepp,
Wings,
Bobby Hutcherson,
New Order,
Eric Dolphy,
Connie Case,
Quando Quango,
Loose Ends,
Warsaw,
The Fugs,
The Flesh Eaters,
Ponytail,
OOIOO,
Technova,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Neon Judgement,
Metal Thangz,
Cluster,
These Immortal Souls,
The Tremeloes,
Rosa Yemen,
The Techniques,
Pere Ubu,
Cymande,
Monolake,
Peter and Kerry,
The Gories,
Sixth Finger,
The Remains,
The Star Department,
Rhythm & Sound,
Tropical Tobacco,
Section 25,
The Busters, The Busters, The Busters, The Busters.
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.