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 Rwanda and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the oboe 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 Cowsills to the dance 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx. All the underground hits.
All R.M.O. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pylon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Cale record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Five Americans,
R.M.O.,
Godley & Creme,
Hot Snakes,
Sällskapet,
Kaleidoscope,
Subhumans,
In Retrospect,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Index,
Mo-Dettes,
John Holt,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
K-Klass,
Eurythmics,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Deepchord,
Funkadelic,
Kayak,
Qualms,
Junior Murvin,
L. Decosne,
The Detroit Cobras,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Lou Christie,
Albert Ayler,
Mad Mike,
The Durutti Column,
Barrington Levy,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Sight & Sound,
Black Pus,
Charles Mingus,
Harmonia,
Howard Jones,
Nation of Ulysses,
Susan Cadogan,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Wolf Eyes,
The Angels of Light,
Matthew Halsall,
Sandy B,
Altered Images,
The Trojans,
Michelle Simonal,
Rotary Connection,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Second Layer,
Easy Going,
The Black Dice,
Crooked Eye,
Adolescents,
Derrick May,
Ultimate Spinach,
Moss Icon,
Duran Duran,
Ronan,
Crispian St. Peters,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Blake Baxter,
Theoretical Girls,
Soul Sonic Force,
X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex.
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.