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 Botswana and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 Holger Czukay 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines to the jazz 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 The Pop Group. All the underground hits.
All Eric Copeland tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Heaven 17 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a F. McDonald record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Los Fastidios,
David Axelrod,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Slick Rick,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Bang On A Can,
Jacques Brel,
Massinfluence,
Tears for Fears,
Surgeon,
Josef K,
UT,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Skriet,
Marcia Griffiths,
Sugar Minott,
Matthew Halsall,
Rotary Connection,
The Vogues,
The Names,
Oneida,
The Saints,
Whodini,
Barbara Tucker,
Ten City,
DJ Sneak,
The Fire Engines,
X-102,
Michelle Simonal,
Alton Ellis,
Joyce Sims,
Black Sheep,
Eurythmics,
Nas,
Spoonie Gee,
Electric Prunes,
Technova,
Jerry's Kids,
Black Flag,
Robert Wyatt,
Marc Almond,
Marmalade,
Idris Muhammad,
New York Dolls,
Danielle Patucci,
Popol Vuh,
Unrelated Segments,
Mandrill,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Birthday Party,
Sonic Youth,
Half Japanese,
Rites of Spring,
Buzzcocks,
Albert Ayler,
Young Marble Giants,
Scott Walker,
Guru Guru,
The Star Department,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
the Association,
Skarface,
The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola.
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.