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 Azerbaijan and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 Holger Czukay 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 John Coltrane to the punk 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 Model 500. All the underground hits.
All Tears for Fears tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cecil Taylor 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Basic Channel record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
H. Thieme,
Heaven 17,
The Techniques,
Duran Duran,
Scratch Acid,
The Busters,
Flipper,
Ornette Coleman,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Sixth Finger,
Deadbeat,
L. Decosne,
JFA,
China Crisis,
Fad Gadget,
Camberwell Now,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Stooges,
Royal Trux,
Iggy Pop,
The Moody Blues,
The Shadows of Knight,
These Immortal Souls,
The Zeros,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Soul II Soul,
F. McDonald,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Pole,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Maleditus Sound,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Bob Dylan,
Marvin Gaye,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Gap Band,
The Young Rascals,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Dirtbombs,
The Smoke,
Cluster,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Lucky Dragons,
Kerri Chandler,
UT,
Harpers Bizarre,
Flamin' Groovies,
Don Cherry,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Dave Clark Five,
Television Personalities,
Radio Birdman,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Harmonia,
Porter Ricks,
Yazoo,
Q65,
Oblivians,
Tropical Tobacco,
Chris & Cosey,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Knickerbockers,
Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears.
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.