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 Belize and from Columbus.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Beijing.
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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Names to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Donald Byrd. All the underground hits.
All London Community Gospel Choir tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Funkadelic 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pierre Henry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lalann,
Crispy Ambulance,
Cecil Taylor,
Gang Green,
Reagan Youth,
Crispian St. Peters,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Unrelated Segments,
Tubeway Army,
Organ,
Trumans Water,
Second Layer,
Crooked Eye,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Ronan,
a-ha,
The Electric Prunes,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Prince Buster,
KRS-One,
Scratch Acid,
Banda Bassotti,
Cluster,
Gil Scott Heron,
F. McDonald,
The Slackers,
Audionom,
Youth Brigade,
The Durutti Column,
Slave,
Joy Division,
The Zeros,
Carl Craig,
The New Christs,
Surgeon,
U.S. Maple,
Kaleidoscope,
Funkadelic,
Judy Mowatt,
L. Decosne,
Anthony Braxton,
Roger Hodgson,
Amon Düül II,
The Moleskins,
Gabor Szabo,
Tropical Tobacco,
8 Eyed Spy,
Silicon Teens,
The Toasters,
Oneida,
Fear,
The Raincoats,
Rufus Thomas,
The Golliwogs,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Kayak,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro.
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.