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 Uruguay and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 theremin 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 Pussy Galore to the rock 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 Ken Boothe. All the underground hits.
All Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lungfish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Echospace record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
R.M.O.,
Marc Almond,
Newcleus,
Marvin Gaye,
Electric Prunes,
Hot Snakes,
Todd Rundgren,
Jacques Brel,
Altered Images,
The Cure,
Tres Demented,
Alton Ellis,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
K-Klass,
Sandy B,
Oblivians,
Neil Young,
Panda Bear,
Girls At Our Best!,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Neu!,
Sparks,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Last Poets,
The Music Machine,
Harmonia,
Lucky Dragons,
Inner City,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Gerry Rafferty,
Joey Negro,
John Holt,
Moebius,
The Neon Judgement,
Tropical Tobacco,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Skatalites,
Minor Threat,
Black Sheep,
Sugar Minott,
Eric B and Rakim,
Rufus Thomas,
Bizarre Inc.,
Ultra Naté,
Mad Mike,
The Pretty Things,
Flipper,
Roxy Music,
EPMD,
Soft Machine,
Bang On A Can,
Kas Product,
Donny Hathaway,
Frankie Knuckles,
Reuben Wilson,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Skaos,
Sex Pistols,
Juan Atkins,
the Human League, the Human League, the Human League, the Human League.
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.