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 Saudi Arabia and from Toronto.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Fortunes. All the underground hits.
All X-101 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Shoche record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fela Kuti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Leonard Cohen,
The Smoke,
The Offenders,
The Remains,
Motorama,
Kerri Chandler,
Jeru the Damaja,
Lungfish,
The J.B.'s,
Basic Channel,
Isaac Hayes,
Section 25,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Porter Ricks,
Mandrill,
Scan 7,
Lalo Schifrin,
The New Christs,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Rapeman,
The Beau Brummels,
Man Eating Sloth,
a-ha,
Wire,
Dawn Penn,
Kurtis Blow,
DJ Sneak,
The Sonics,
Jawbox,
The Fugs,
Sight & Sound,
The Doobie Brothers,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Kayak,
Eurythmics,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Grandmaster Flash,
Ronan,
Soulsonic Force,
Youth Brigade,
The Searchers,
Soft Machine,
Bush Tetras,
the Slits,
Public Enemy,
Danielle Patucci,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Man Parrish,
The Index,
Iggy Pop,
Fugazi,
Nas,
Joe Finger,
Mark Hollis,
Ultra Naté,
Qualms,
Essential Logic,
Heaven 17,
Deakin,
Michelle Simonal,
Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier.
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.