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 Ukraine and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Monks to the punk 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 Erasure. All the underground hits.
All Ornette Coleman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bill Wells record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 chamberlin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pere Ubu,
The Motions,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Clear Light,
The Selecter,
Mantronix,
Peter & Gordon,
Bang On A Can,
L. Decosne,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Public Image Ltd.,
Pylon,
Anakelly,
Bill Near,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Todd Rundgren,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Black Sheep,
Man Eating Sloth,
Buzzcocks,
The Evens,
Donald Byrd,
Aloha Tigers,
Heaven 17,
The J.B.'s,
Ronnie Foster,
Rotary Connection,
The Gories,
Flash Fearless,
The Tremeloes,
Barclay James Harvest,
Colin Newman,
Chris Corsano,
Marine Girls,
The Smoke,
Underground Resistance,
Joy Division,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Derrick Morgan,
Jesper Dahlback,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Sound Behaviour,
Marmalade,
Gang of Four,
the Fania All-Stars,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Sam Rivers,
Goldenarms,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Smiths,
The Count Five,
Terrestrial Tones,
Kaleidoscope,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Infiniti,
Johnny Osbourne,
Mandrill,
Laurel Aitken,
Porter Ricks,
8 Eyed Spy,
Index,
Josef K,
Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman.
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.