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 Norway and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Manchester.
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 güiro 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 Sun Ra to the grunge 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 Ten City. All the underground hits.
All Camouflage tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suburban Knight record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jerry Gold Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Y Pants,
Joe Smooth,
The Divine Comedy,
Procol Harum,
Nik Kershaw,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Saints,
Ituana,
Bang On A Can,
Nirvana,
the Human League,
Sister Nancy,
X-101,
Bad Manners,
Cecil Taylor,
Bobby Sherman,
Faraquet,
Dark Day,
The Music Machine,
the Germs,
Suicide,
Roger Hodgson,
Yaz,
Harry Pussy,
Terry Callier,
Throbbing Gristle,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The American Breed,
Cal Tjader,
Fat Boys,
Rotary Connection,
Darondo,
Chris Corsano,
Marcia Griffiths,
Delon & Dalcan,
Gong,
Bootsy Collins,
Marmalade,
Janne Schatter,
Boogie Down Productions,
Reagan Youth,
Soft Machine,
Cameo,
Heaven 17,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Talk Talk,
Pussy Galore,
Depeche Mode,
The Sound,
Thee Headcoats,
Moebius,
E-Dancer,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Mummies,
Minny Pops,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Kaleidoscope,
The Skatalites,
Amon Düül,
The Fire Engines,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Red Krayola,
Mantronix,
Adolescents, Adolescents, Adolescents, Adolescents.
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.