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 Suriname and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Lyon.
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 Donald Fagen 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 Kango’s Stein Massive to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Kerrie Biddell. All the underground hits.
All New York Dolls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 8 Eyed Spy 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 a synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marshall Jefferson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Susan Cadogan,
Black Flag,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Dave Clark Five,
T. Rex,
The Cure,
Infiniti,
Marcia Griffiths,
Kevin Saunderson,
Ken Boothe,
Girls At Our Best!,
Malaria!,
The Offenders,
The Happenings,
Tres Demented,
Cymande,
Eli Mardock,
Fear,
T.S.O.L.,
Young Marble Giants,
Scan 7,
The Mummies,
Suburban Knight,
Sex Pistols,
Frankie Knuckles,
Camberwell Now,
The Doobie Brothers,
CMW,
MC5,
Popol Vuh,
Bootsy Collins,
The Evens,
Roxette,
David Bowie,
Electric Prunes,
Joe Finger,
Eve St. Jones,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Alison Limerick,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Darondo,
Neil Young,
Pantytec,
Amon Düül,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Smoke,
The Barracudas,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Toasters,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Golliwogs,
Lalann,
Man Parrish,
Simply Red,
Bill Wells,
B.T. Express,
Unrelated Segments,
The Trojans,
Technova,
Minutemen,
Roy Ayers, Roy Ayers, Roy Ayers, Roy Ayers.
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.