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 Taiwan and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron 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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 David Bowie 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Manfred Mann's Earth Band. All the underground hits.
All Kings Of Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Animal Collective 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultimate Spinach record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gun Club,
The Searchers,
Brass Construction,
Throbbing Gristle,
Kevin Saunderson,
Nico,
Grauzone,
Sandy B,
Aaron Thompson,
The Gladiators,
Flash Fearless,
Quando Quango,
Lindisfarne,
Quantec,
Amazonics,
Whodini,
Wasted Youth,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Thompson Twins,
Sexual Harrassment,
Magazine,
Malaria!,
Babytalk,
The American Breed,
Johnny Clarke,
Crash Course in Science,
KRS-One,
Zero Boys,
Niagra,
Warren Ellis,
Roxette,
The Pretty Things,
Lakeside,
Gichy Dan,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Sonny Sharrock,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
the Human League,
Los Fastidios,
Robert Wyatt,
Wolf Eyes,
Toni Rubio,
X-101,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Amon Düül,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Cymande,
Rod Modell,
Half Japanese,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Todd Rundgren,
Gang Starr,
Lou Reed,
Black Bananas,
Pulsallama,
Darondo,
DJ Sneak,
Leonard Cohen,
Bill Wells,
Slick Rick,
This Heat,
Smog, Smog, Smog, Smog.
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.