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 Luxembourg 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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 Michael McDonald 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 Intrusion to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 kango's stein massive. All the underground hits.
All Mary Jane Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marvin Gaye record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 marimba and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Section 25 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brothers Johnson,
Black Moon,
Sam Rivers,
Todd Terry,
Rotary Connection,
8 Eyed Spy,
Scott Walker,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Alphaville,
The Monochrome Set,
Sarah Menescal,
Ituana,
Skriet,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Quando Quango,
Au Pairs,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Tres Demented,
Fugazi,
Pet Shop Boys,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Stiv Bators,
H. Thieme,
OOIOO,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Livin' Joy,
Sex Pistols,
Panda Bear,
the Germs,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Jimmy McGriff,
Rapeman,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Y Pants,
Gang Starr,
Eve St. Jones,
The Skatalites,
Trumans Water,
Bobby Sherman,
Moebius,
U.S. Maple,
Lindisfarne,
The Black Dice,
Jandek,
Alice Coltrane,
The Martian,
Wings,
Terry Callier,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Slave,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Theoretical Girls,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Harmonia,
Boogie Down Productions,
Heaven 17,
The Residents,
Jacques Brel,
Kevin Saunderson,
Q65,
Marc Almond,
Circle Jerks,
Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron.
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.