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 Benin and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 theremin 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 Rakim to the punk 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 T.S.O.L.. All the underground hits.
All Negative Approach tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James White and The Blacks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 oboe and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Severed Heads,
Can,
Skarface,
Deakin,
Rapeman,
10cc,
New York Dolls,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Gil Scott Heron,
Spandau Ballet,
Desert Stars,
Pagans,
The Fire Engines,
Tim Buckley,
U.S. Maple,
Sandy B,
The Doors,
Mad Mike,
Pantytec,
Nils Olav,
Model 500,
Black Pus,
Thompson Twins,
Arab on Radar,
Ossler,
The Pop Group,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Stiv Bators,
Bobby Byrd,
Essential Logic,
Circle Jerks,
Fluxion,
Mary Jane Girls,
Lakeside,
the Germs,
Kevin Saunderson,
Jacob Miller,
Suburban Knight,
Marcia Griffiths,
Half Japanese,
John Cale,
Tommy Roe,
Chris Corsano,
Audionom,
Rod Modell,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Minor Threat,
Avey Tare,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Symarip,
Electric Prunes,
The Happenings,
Neu!,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Skriet,
Marine Girls,
Gastr Del Sol,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Eve St. Jones,
Cecil Taylor,
Whodini, Whodini, Whodini, Whodini.
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.