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 Solomon Islands and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 Funky Four + One to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks. All the underground hits.
All Lyres tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every F. McDonald record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a U.S. Maple record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Angels of Light,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Wally Richardson,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Radio Birdman,
Henry Cow,
Prince Buster,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Hardrive,
Technova,
Altered Images,
Masters at Work,
Moebius,
Letta Mbulu,
the Swans,
Trumans Water,
Average White Band,
Quantec,
Quadrant,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Dirtbombs,
The Leaves,
Ten City,
The Trojans,
Mark Hollis,
Hasil Adkins,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Litter,
Black Moon,
Suicide,
Freddie Wadling,
Deakin,
the Human League,
Warsaw,
Ossler,
Matthew Bourne,
Joy Division,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Ohio Players,
Pantytec,
Whodini,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Reuben Wilson,
Kevin Saunderson,
Idris Muhammad,
Lalo Schifrin,
Japan,
Motorama,
Guru Guru,
Terrestrial Tones,
Bob Dylan,
Flash Fearless,
The Vogues,
Ituana,
Crispy Ambulance,
Lee Hazlewood,
Sparks,
U.S. Maple,
Wings,
X-Ray Spex,
The Mojo Men,
KRS-One, KRS-One, KRS-One, KRS-One.
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.