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 Togo and from Accra.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 Robert Palmer 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 Wolf Eyes to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Deadbeat. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott Heron 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Coltrane 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?
Simply Red,
Roxy Music,
Sister Nancy,
Arab on Radar,
The Angels of Light,
The Martian,
Brick,
Accadde A,
Youth Brigade,
The Pop Group,
Motorama,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Electric Prunes,
Black Flag,
China Crisis,
Traffic Nightmare,
Vainqueur,
This Heat,
Camberwell Now,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Stooges,
Mary Jane Girls,
Popol Vuh,
Rufus Thomas,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Jimmy McGriff,
Soul Sonic Force,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Minor Threat,
Black Moon,
Magma,
Donald Byrd,
Marshall Jefferson,
Cecil Taylor,
Kerrie Biddell,
Marine Girls,
Sight & Sound,
The Cure,
Grandmaster Flash,
Zapp,
Model 500,
R.M.O.,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Hoover,
the Association,
Little Man,
E-Dancer,
Jandek,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Lalann,
Flamin' Groovies,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Motions,
Scrapy,
Radio Birdman,
The Music Machine,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Red Krayola,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Heaven 17,
Nico, Nico, Nico, Nico.
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.