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 Syria and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in 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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Angels of Light to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Parry Music. All the underground hits.
All Curtis Mayfield tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Searchers 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
48th St. Collective,
Franke,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
June of 44,
Jeff Mills,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Crooked Eye,
Tears for Fears,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Archie Shepp,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Roxy Music,
Amon Düül,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Gun Club,
The Five Americans,
Clear Light,
Janne Schatter,
Harmonia,
8 Eyed Spy,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Flesh Eaters,
Delon & Dalcan,
Mission of Burma,
Audionom,
The Gladiators,
The Smoke,
Schoolly D,
Depeche Mode,
Freddie Wadling,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Spandau Ballet,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Icehouse,
Marshall Jefferson,
Scientists,
New Age Steppers,
David Bowie,
T.S.O.L.,
Moby Grape,
Eurythmics,
Albert Ayler,
Chris Corsano,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Electric Prunes,
Robert Hood,
Connie Case,
Alton Ellis,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Q and Not U,
Circle Jerks,
Aswad,
Terrestrial Tones,
Warren Ellis,
The Wake,
Simply Red,
The Slackers,
Henry Cow,
Arcadia,
Gang of Four,
Jandek, Jandek, Jandek, Jandek.
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.