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 Ghana and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 U.S. Maple to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Walker Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Gang Gang Dance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rotary Connection 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a De La Soul & Jungle Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yellowson,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Move,
Harpers Bizarre,
Radiohead,
Goldenarms,
Ralphi Rosario,
Interpol,
B.T. Express,
Drexciya,
Eve St. Jones,
Amazonics,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Blackbyrds,
Andrew Hill,
Johnny Clarke,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Sound,
Harmonia,
Ohio Players,
Scott Walker,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Brass Construction,
Procol Harum,
Faust,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Dead Boys,
Marmalade,
Judy Mowatt,
Nils Olav,
Howard Jones,
Susan Cadogan,
Harry Pussy,
Minor Threat,
Lucky Dragons,
Kenny Larkin,
Supertramp,
Laurel Aitken,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Names,
Arthur Verocai,
The Young Rascals,
The Smoke,
Swans,
the Slits,
Minny Pops,
Can,
Dawn Penn,
Aloha Tigers,
Alison Limerick,
Lalann,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Country Teasers,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Shadows of Knight,
Matthew Halsall,
Letta Mbulu,
The Evens,
Wire,
Lalo Schifrin,
Matthew Bourne,
E-Dancer, E-Dancer, E-Dancer, E-Dancer.
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.