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 Angola and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Fela Kuti to the grime 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 Matthew Bourne. All the underground hits.
All The Beau Brummels tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Q65 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scott Walker record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barclay James Harvest,
Spoonie Gee,
Lalo Schifrin,
Rosa Yemen,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Move,
Parry Music,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Smoke,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Babytalk,
Bauhaus,
Brand Nubian,
Porter Ricks,
Judy Mowatt,
Man Parrish,
Zero Boys,
Wasted Youth,
Nils Olav,
Peter and Kerry,
Ituana,
The Smiths,
The Five Americans,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Cowsills,
Excepter,
Can,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Deakin,
T.S.O.L.,
Flamin' Groovies,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Minny Pops,
Davy DMX,
Grauzone,
Girls At Our Best!,
Angry Samoans,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Joyce Sims,
a-ha,
H. Thieme,
Wire,
Althea and Donna,
Little Man,
Jacques Brel,
The Fall,
Stetsasonic,
Derrick Morgan,
The Slackers,
Gang Green,
The Flesh Eaters,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
U.S. Maple,
Steve Hackett,
Fela Kuti,
Bill Wells,
Rekid,
Heaven 17,
Pylon,
Gong,
Juan Atkins,
Gian Franco Pienzio, Gian Franco Pienzio, Gian Franco Pienzio, Gian Franco Pienzio.
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.