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 Gambia and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Hong Kong.
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 linndrum 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 Boredoms to the techno 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 Sandy B. All the underground hits.
All Peter & Gordon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lee Hazlewood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Faust record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Charles Mingus,
Television,
Malaria!,
June of 44,
Wolf Eyes,
Anthony Braxton,
Basic Channel,
Loose Ends,
The J.B.'s,
the Slits,
Rapeman,
The Techniques,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
T. Rex,
Cecil Taylor,
Lungfish,
Pylon,
Swell Maps,
Tom Boy,
Harpers Bizarre,
10cc,
Soul Sonic Force,
Lyres,
Ken Boothe,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Terry Callier,
Aswad,
Scrapy,
Stereo Dub,
Bush Tetras,
Pulsallama,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Human League,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Massinfluence,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Au Pairs,
Cluster,
Flipper,
The Raincoats,
Kerri Chandler,
The Neon Judgement,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Leaves,
Eve St. Jones,
Thompson Twins,
Magazine,
Dawn Penn,
Section 25,
Desert Stars,
The Smoke,
Angry Samoans,
Wasted Youth,
Ohio Players,
Rufus Thomas,
Bobby Byrd,
Dead Boys,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Scan 7,
The Gun Club,
Hardrive,
Main Source,
Al Stewart,
Soft Machine,
Lee Hazlewood, Lee Hazlewood, Lee Hazlewood, Lee Hazlewood.
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.