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 Singapore and from Houston.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Gregory Isaacs 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 Japan. All the underground hits.
All The Detroit Cobras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pole record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 a guitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wolf Eyes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Freddie Wadling,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Sound,
Shuggie Otis,
Magazine,
Whodini,
Boz Scaggs,
L. Decosne,
Blake Baxter,
The Remains,
Unwound,
Rekid,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Albert Ayler,
Pierre Henry,
New Age Steppers,
Nik Kershaw,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Arcadia,
Mandrill,
Unrelated Segments,
The Fall,
Q65,
The Sonics,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Litter,
Ultimate Spinach,
Boogie Down Productions,
Groovy Waters,
Mars,
KRS-One,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Detroit Cobras,
Throbbing Gristle,
Skarface,
Mission of Burma,
X-102,
Fluxion,
Gabor Szabo,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Dark Day,
The Music Machine,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Bauhaus,
Eric Dolphy,
Essential Logic,
Man Parrish,
Rosa Yemen,
The Names,
Thee Headcoats,
Mantronix,
Pole,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Scion,
Judy Mowatt,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Eli Mardock,
The Standells,
Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel.
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.