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 Ecuador and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in 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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Eurythmics to the disco 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 Lungfish. All the underground hits.
All Sight & Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mantronix record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Archie Shepp record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Neil Young,
The Star Department,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
H. Thieme,
The Grass Roots,
Nas,
Newcleus,
Slick Rick,
Mantronix,
The Moody Blues,
Interpol,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Make Up,
The Angels of Light,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Country Teasers,
The Five Americans,
World's Most,
Junior Murvin,
Lightning Bolt,
Henry Cow,
Organ,
Cluster,
Godley & Creme,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Stiv Bators,
Peter & Gordon,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
cv313,
Pole,
Graham Central Station,
Johnny Osbourne,
Youth Brigade,
Subhumans,
The Saints,
Vainqueur,
Cameo,
Ossler,
Minor Threat,
The Knickerbockers,
Little Man,
Letta Mbulu,
Cheater Slicks,
KRS-One,
Glenn Branca,
Judy Mowatt,
Roger Hodgson,
Grauzone,
Agent Orange,
Tubeway Army,
Ohio Players,
Janne Schatter,
Sex Pistols,
June of 44,
June Days,
Franke,
The Red Krayola,
Iggy Pop,
Marshall Jefferson,
Todd Terry,
John Holt,
Camouflage, Camouflage, Camouflage, Camouflage.
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.