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 Togo and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Underground Resistance to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Matthew Bourne. All the underground hits.
All Donny Hathaway tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Monolake record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Smog,
Whodini,
Barry Ungar,
Interpol,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Mojo Men,
Dennis Brown,
Make Up,
Audionom,
Rakim,
Franke,
The Searchers,
Ituana,
The Tremeloes,
Accadde A,
Can,
Colin Newman,
The Black Dice,
Alphaville,
Main Source,
Cecil Taylor,
Section 25,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Grass Roots,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Smoke,
Godley & Creme,
Joe Smooth,
Byron Stingily,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
the Bar-Kays,
The Names,
Radiopuhelimet,
Underground Resistance,
ABC,
Piero Umiliani,
The Smiths,
Janne Schatter,
Lou Christie,
Mission of Burma,
Fugazi,
Cameo,
New York Dolls,
Kerri Chandler,
Faust,
Ken Boothe,
Harry Pussy,
Adolescents,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Avey Tare,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Inner City,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
David Axelrod,
Aloha Tigers,
Arab on Radar,
Funky Four + One,
Clear Light, Clear Light, Clear Light, Clear Light.
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.