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 Jordan and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 linndrum 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 Gil Scott Heron to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Justin Hinds & The Dominoes. All the underground hits.
All Lindisfarne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roger Hodgson 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scott Walker record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tommy Roe,
Alton Ellis,
Janne Schatter,
The Fuzztones,
Roxy Music,
Frankie Knuckles,
Susan Cadogan,
Throbbing Gristle,
Girls At Our Best!,
Pussy Galore,
The Gladiators,
Donald Byrd,
Hashim,
Stiv Bators,
Unrelated Segments,
Dorothy Ashby,
Sarah Menescal,
Rites of Spring,
The Leaves,
Oneida,
Ultimate Spinach,
These Immortal Souls,
Sixth Finger,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Black Pus,
Severed Heads,
Brick,
Sister Nancy,
Scrapy,
The Knickerbockers,
the Soft Cell,
Public Image Ltd.,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Scott Walker,
Bootsy Collins,
Radio Birdman,
Inner City,
Duran Duran,
Country Teasers,
Robert Hood,
Archie Shepp,
Newcleus,
The Monochrome Set,
The Grass Roots,
The Detroit Cobras,
This Heat,
The Sonics,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Absolute Body Control,
MC5,
Zero Boys,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Metal Thangz,
Zapp,
Suicide,
8 Eyed Spy,
the Germs,
Surgeon,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Nirvana,
Gong, Gong, Gong, Gong.
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.