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 Jamaica and from Lyon.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 marimba 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 Groovy Waters to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Jacob Miller. All the underground hits.
All Gastr Del Sol tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Letta Mbulu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bauhaus,
Surgeon,
Pierre Henry,
Brick,
The Pretty Things,
Barclay James Harvest,
DNA,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
One Last Wish,
Soul Sonic Force,
Dennis Brown,
The Raincoats,
The Monochrome Set,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Fela Kuti,
Kerri Chandler,
The Shadows of Knight,
Electric Prunes,
Skriet,
Tres Demented,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Sixth Finger,
Archie Shepp,
Lower 48,
New Age Steppers,
Boz Scaggs,
The Moleskins,
The Slits,
Second Layer,
Iggy Pop,
Pantaleimon,
Bronski Beat,
Kurtis Blow,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Danielle Patucci,
Main Source,
Wasted Youth,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Swell Maps,
Morten Harket,
Wire,
David McCallum,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Moby Grape,
Gerry Rafferty,
Hardrive,
Excepter,
Qualms,
Tim Buckley,
Underground Resistance,
Ornette Coleman,
The American Breed,
CMW,
X-101,
Donny Hathaway,
Animal Collective,
Gang Gang Dance,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Flesh Eaters,
Soft Cell,
the Fania All-Stars,
Grauzone, Grauzone, Grauzone, Grauzone.
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.