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 Portugal and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 snare 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 Terry Callier to the disco 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 The Smoke. All the underground hits.
All Gian Franco Pienzio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angels of Light & Akron/Family 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pop Group record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wire,
Laurel Aitken,
Section 25,
Mark Hollis,
Urselle,
Peter and Kerry,
Radio Birdman,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Cameo,
Sixth Finger,
Rakim,
Reuben Wilson,
Ken Boothe,
the Association,
Trumans Water,
Faraquet,
Minor Threat,
The Residents,
Audionom,
Swans,
Duran Duran,
Black Flag,
The Black Dice,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Anakelly,
Au Pairs,
Tubeway Army,
The Mummies,
a-ha,
Harpers Bizarre,
The J.B.'s,
Robert Hood,
Robert Wyatt,
Aloha Tigers,
Bad Manners,
Rufus Thomas,
Kenny Larkin,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Popol Vuh,
Lou Christie,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Pop Group,
Max Romeo,
Arab on Radar,
Connie Case,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Yaz,
John Cale,
Thee Headcoats,
Los Fastidios,
E-Dancer,
Groovy Waters,
Severed Heads,
Man Eating Sloth,
Morten Harket,
Piero Umiliani,
The Grass Roots,
Aural Exciters,
Maurizio,
Scott Walker,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Remains, The Remains, The Remains, The Remains.
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.