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 Honduras and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 Tom Verlaine 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 Saccharine Trust to the crunk 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 Siglo XX. All the underground hits.
All Country Joe & The Fish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Spandau Ballet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Vaughan Mason & Crew record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Monks,
David McCallum,
The Motions,
Swans,
Barbara Tucker,
the Fania All-Stars,
Theoretical Girls,
Can,
Malaria!,
Letta Mbulu,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Loose Ends,
Anakelly,
Graham Central Station,
B.T. Express,
CMW,
Gerry Rafferty,
Parry Music,
Rites of Spring,
Nation of Ulysses,
KRS-One,
Patti Smith,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sam Rivers,
Henry Cow,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Big Daddy Kane,
Wings,
Man Parrish,
Roxy Music,
Thompson Twins,
The Names,
T. Rex,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Rhythm & Sound,
Q and Not U,
Gichy Dan,
Wolf Eyes,
Dorothy Ashby,
Sällskapet,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Pierre Henry,
Rod Modell,
Whodini,
Johnny Clarke,
Cheater Slicks,
The Victims,
Zero Boys,
K-Klass,
Gang Gang Dance,
Girls At Our Best!,
Grauzone,
The Happenings,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Steve Hackett,
Radio Birdman,
Todd Terry,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Scott Walker,
Television Personalities,
Lakeside,
Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon.
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.