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 Maldives and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 guitar 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 The Count Five to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Tom Boy. All the underground hits.
All Au Pairs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Newcleus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 8 Eyed Spy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Divine Comedy,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Funkadelic,
Suicide,
Ultimate Spinach,
Agent Orange,
the Slits,
Khruangbin,
Terrestrial Tones,
Depeche Mode,
The J.B.'s,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Black Sheep,
Sound Behaviour,
Bootsy Collins,
Audionom,
The Buckinghams,
Sarah Menescal,
D'Angelo,
Livin' Joy,
Deadbeat,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Frankie Knuckles,
Max Romeo,
Roxy Music,
The Searchers,
Yazoo,
Johnny Osbourne,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Zeros,
The Remains,
Second Layer,
Tomorrow,
Brass Construction,
Roy Ayers,
Desert Stars,
The Velvet Underground,
Jacques Brel,
Fatback Band,
Matthew Halsall,
Man Eating Sloth,
the Association,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Scientists,
Vainqueur,
The Blackbyrds,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Joey Negro,
the Sonics,
a-ha,
Patti Smith,
Make Up,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Excepter,
48th St. Collective,
Sparks,
Sonny Sharrock,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Bang On A Can,
Mark Hollis,
Smog, Smog, Smog, Smog.
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.