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 Morocco and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 oboe 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 Mo-Dettes to the rap 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 Pantytec. All the underground hits.
All Kerrie Biddell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dark Day record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a cv313 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heaven 17,
The Fortunes,
Terry Callier,
The Searchers,
The Sound,
Rosa Yemen,
Pantaleimon,
Babytalk,
Absolute Body Control,
Icehouse,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
L. Decosne,
Swans,
Ossler,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Black Pus,
Stereo Dub,
Crime,
Boredoms,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Soulsonic Force,
Anthony Braxton,
Khruangbin,
Rites of Spring,
Throbbing Gristle,
Boz Scaggs,
The Five Americans,
F. McDonald,
Roxy Music,
Guru Guru,
The Blackbyrds,
Barrington Levy,
The Knickerbockers,
Monks,
Brothers Johnson,
Wasted Youth,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Infiniti,
The Toasters,
Mary Jane Girls,
Easy Going,
Sugar Minott,
The Pretty Things,
Yaz,
The Names,
a-ha,
Yusef Lateef,
Sonny Sharrock,
Blake Baxter,
Harpers Bizarre,
Amon Düül,
Sister Nancy,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Accadde A,
The Stooges,
Desert Stars,
Rotary Connection,
Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas.
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.