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 Grenada and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 London Community Gospel Choir to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Stereo Dub. All the underground hits.
All Gastr Del Sol tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every U.S. Maple record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Shuggie Otis,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Blancmange,
Subhumans,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Names,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Scion,
Scrapy,
Lightning Bolt,
ABBA,
Monolake,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Erykah Badu,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Cheater Slicks,
Juan Atkins,
Idris Muhammad,
Fluxion,
The Sound,
The Trojans,
Severed Heads,
Josef K,
Franke,
The Dead C,
The Pretty Things,
Nils Olav,
Anakelly,
Bobby Womack,
Animal Collective,
Crispian St. Peters,
Pet Shop Boys,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Soft Machine,
Agent Orange,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Tommy Roe,
R.M.O.,
Essential Logic,
Depeche Mode,
The Standells,
David Axelrod,
Peter and Kerry,
Lou Reed,
Q and Not U,
Thompson Twins,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Dave Gahan,
Gang Starr,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Move,
LL Cool J,
Blossom Toes,
Amon Düül II,
Throbbing Gristle,
OOIOO,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Clear Light,
Al Stewart,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters.
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.