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 Australia and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Gabor Szabo to the grunge 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 The Shadows of Knight. All the underground hits.
All Duran Duran tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Invisible record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Grauzone record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stockholm Monsters,
Brothers Johnson,
Ten City,
The Moody Blues,
The United States of America,
The Red Krayola,
Cecil Taylor,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Raincoats,
Mission of Burma,
The Mummies,
Zero Boys,
Suburban Knight,
Jacob Miller,
The Dirtbombs,
Barclay James Harvest,
Organ,
Nas,
Quando Quango,
Youth Brigade,
Harry Pussy,
Sonny Sharrock,
Ultravox,
Icehouse,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Davy DMX,
Gil Scott Heron,
Quantec,
Gang Starr,
Ossler,
Agent Orange,
John Coltrane,
Radiohead,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
John Cale,
OOIOO,
Lee Hazlewood,
Thompson Twins,
Boredoms,
Fat Boys,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Public Image Ltd.,
Metal Thangz,
The Durutti Column,
The Residents,
Robert Görl,
The Pretty Things,
Frankie Knuckles,
Mary Jane Girls,
Model 500,
Mo-Dettes,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Pagans,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
the Association,
The New Christs,
Con Funk Shun,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers.
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.