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 Costa Rica and from Winnipeg.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Winnipeg.
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 oboe 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 Kevin Saunderson to the disco 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 L. Decosne. All the underground hits.
All Mandrill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ice-T record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Busters,
The Vogues,
Carl Craig,
Ultravox,
FM Einheit,
Donald Byrd,
The Star Department,
Rakim,
Prince Buster,
The Alarm Clocks,
10cc,
Stetsasonic,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Wake,
Pet Shop Boys,
Cheater Slicks,
Rapeman,
Gang Starr,
Radio Birdman,
Robert Görl,
Barclay James Harvest,
Echospace,
Man Parrish,
Pylon,
The Move,
Banda Bassotti,
Unwound,
The Detroit Cobras,
Animal Collective,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Eddi Front,
Crash Course in Science,
Joey Negro,
Blancmange,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Gap Band,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Black Moon,
Symarip,
Pussy Galore,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Fire Engines,
Max Romeo,
Quantec,
Reagan Youth,
Sight & Sound,
The Beau Brummels,
Silicon Teens,
Marshall Jefferson,
48th St. Collective,
The Residents,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Connie Case,
The Dirtbombs,
Ponytail,
Mad Mike,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Au Pairs,
Wally Richardson,
Slave,
Crispy Ambulance,
K-Klass,
Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners.
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.