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 Afghanistan and from Seoul.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 spring reverb 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 The Moleskins to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 The Peanut Butter Conspiracy. All the underground hits.
All The Gun Club tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mandrill 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bush Tetras record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Durutti Column,
T.S.O.L.,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Detroit Cobras,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Eddi Front,
Rekid,
Jerry's Kids,
The Mojo Men,
Magma,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Smog,
Loose Ends,
Spandau Ballet,
Pole,
New Age Steppers,
Gastr Del Sol,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Toasters,
Bootsy Collins,
Can,
Spoonie Gee,
Surgeon,
Lindisfarne,
Organ,
Bad Manners,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Scrapy,
The Star Department,
The Litter,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Kurtis Blow,
Ornette Coleman,
Arthur Verocai,
Sam Rivers,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Eurythmics,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Basic Channel,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Golliwogs,
Crime,
Henry Cow,
Patti Smith,
Bobby Byrd,
Blancmange,
Amon Düül II,
Lucky Dragons,
Gang Gang Dance,
Avey Tare,
Deadbeat,
The Martian,
John Coltrane,
Bizarre Inc.,
Marvin Gaye,
Judy Mowatt,
Neu!,
Mary Jane Girls,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Black Dice,
kango's stein massive, kango's stein massive, kango's stein massive, kango's stein massive.
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.