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 Iceland and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 spring reverb 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Soft Cell. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Hill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Justin Hinds & The Dominoes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Royal Trux record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wolf Eyes,
Cybotron,
The Monks,
The Invisible,
Cluster,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Stetsasonic,
The Stooges,
The Smoke,
Lightning Bolt,
The Count Five,
Youth Brigade,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Marcia Griffiths,
Sex Pistols,
Maleditus Sound,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Joy Division,
Drexciya,
Au Pairs,
Barrington Levy,
The Techniques,
The Fall,
Mark Hollis,
The New Christs,
Slick Rick,
Wings,
Lyres,
Johnny Osbourne,
Mr. Review,
Girls At Our Best!,
Neil Young,
Deakin,
Bootsy Collins,
Supertramp,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Fluxion,
Cecil Taylor,
Ronan,
Sister Nancy,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Cramps,
Bluetip,
Soft Cell,
Reuben Wilson,
Terrestrial Tones,
Jeru the Damaja,
Gabor Szabo,
Davy DMX,
The Tremeloes,
ABBA,
Electric Prunes,
The Zeros,
Cameo,
the Bar-Kays,
The Index,
David Bowie,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Aswad,
Brass Construction, Brass Construction, Brass Construction, Brass Construction.
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.