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 Monaco and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 clarinet 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 Black Pus to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Rekid. All the underground hits.
All The Pretty Things tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Selector Dub Narcotic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marcia Griffiths record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cybotron,
Chrome,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Ohio Players,
D'Angelo,
Trumans Water,
Terry Callier,
Scan 7,
Outsiders,
Minnie Riperton,
Traffic Nightmare,
Metal Thangz,
Can,
Alton Ellis,
John Holt,
Parry Music,
Eden Ahbez,
The Martian,
Rufus Thomas,
ABBA,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
These Immortal Souls,
The Raincoats,
Los Fastidios,
Hardrive,
Mad Mike,
Wire,
Aloha Tigers,
The Cure,
Von Mondo,
Dead Boys,
Joe Smooth,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Popol Vuh,
The American Breed,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Throbbing Gristle,
Radiohead,
Yusef Lateef,
Ornette Coleman,
Radio Birdman,
David McCallum,
The Flesh Eaters,
Aaron Thompson,
Mars,
Bang On A Can,
Ice-T,
The Offenders,
Livin' Joy,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Human League,
Judy Mowatt,
Main Source,
La Düsseldorf,
Rekid,
Scratch Acid,
ABC,
Porter Ricks,
Easy Going,
the Human League, the Human League, the Human League, the Human League.
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.