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 Gabon and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 Houston and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel to the funk 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 Doors. All the underground hits.
All Ultra Naté tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every kango's stein massive record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dead C record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
Niagra,
The Moody Blues,
Glambeats Corp.,
Sight & Sound,
Rotary Connection,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Soulsonic Force,
Mandrill,
Crooked Eye,
Wings,
The Vogues,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Grass Roots,
the Human League,
Bronski Beat,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Mummies,
Bad Manners,
Reagan Youth,
Rosa Yemen,
Marmalade,
Hashim,
Barry Ungar,
Tom Boy,
Dual Sessions,
Laurel Aitken,
La Düsseldorf,
Gang Gang Dance,
Mark Hollis,
Bizarre Inc.,
Piero Umiliani,
Alton Ellis,
Wally Richardson,
Avey Tare,
Suicide,
Rhythm & Sound,
Crispy Ambulance,
Schoolly D,
Heaven 17,
Lindisfarne,
Swans,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Techniques,
Sister Nancy,
The Happenings,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
James White and The Blacks,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Star Department,
the Slits,
ABBA,
Harmonia,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Buzzcocks,
Jimmy McGriff,
Zero Boys,
Stiv Bators,
Desert Stars,
Fear, Fear, Fear, Fear.
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.