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 Tuvalu and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Paris.
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 marimba 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 Gil Scott Heron to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Marine Girls. All the underground hits.
All Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Andrew Hill 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Stooges record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The American Breed,
Infiniti,
Royal Trux,
Simply Red,
The Mummies,
Danielle Patucci,
Neu!,
ABBA,
Lightning Bolt,
The Zeros,
John Foxx,
Roger Hodgson,
The Walker Brothers,
Lalann,
Joe Finger,
Vladislav Delay,
Arcadia,
Lungfish,
Zero Boys,
The Fuzztones,
Altered Images,
Ohio Players,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Lalo Schifrin,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Alton Ellis,
Eurythmics,
The Slackers,
U.S. Maple,
Marmalade,
T. Rex,
Junior Murvin,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Wasted Youth,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Marc Almond,
Q65,
Reagan Youth,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Sex Pistols,
Iggy Pop,
Vainqueur,
Sugar Minott,
Dark Day,
10cc,
Slick Rick,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Sun City Girls,
Erasure,
Faust,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Todd Terry,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Arab on Radar,
Faraquet,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Black Sheep,
Thee Headcoats,
Country Teasers,
Max Romeo,
Malaria!,
The Gladiators,
Rufus Thomas,
The Index, The Index, The Index, The Index.
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.