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 Uzbekistan and from Seoul.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 theremin 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 Porter Ricks to the crunk 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 Barrington Levy. All the underground hits.
All Pulsallama tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Flesh Eaters 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harpers Bizarre record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Henry Cow,
Vainqueur,
Fatback Band,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Marc Almond,
Peter & Gordon,
Bush Tetras,
Eric Copeland,
The Moody Blues,
Buzzcocks,
Johnny Clarke,
The Leaves,
Bill Near,
The Red Krayola,
Howard Jones,
Tres Demented,
Spoonie Gee,
The Searchers,
Trumans Water,
kango's stein massive,
Roy Ayers,
B.T. Express,
David Axelrod,
Iggy Pop,
Hasil Adkins,
The Stooges,
the Soft Cell,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Yellowson,
The Monochrome Set,
Laurel Aitken,
Alice Coltrane,
Anthony Braxton,
Blossom Toes,
Freddie Wadling,
Althea and Donna,
New York Dolls,
T.S.O.L.,
The Divine Comedy,
The Last Poets,
Cheater Slicks,
Minor Threat,
Steve Hackett,
Motorama,
Make Up,
Bobby Sherman,
The Blues Magoos,
John Holt,
John Lydon,
Jeff Lynne,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Toasters,
Goldenarms,
Eve St. Jones,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Loose Ends,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Drexciya,
Maleditus Sound,
Radiohead,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Soulsonic Force,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams.
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.