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 Mauritania and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
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 Simply Red to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Bootsy Collins. All the underground hits.
All U.S. Maple tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Moebius record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Vainqueur record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terry Callier,
Wire,
John Foxx,
The Birthday Party,
The Shadows of Knight,
Motorama,
Hardrive,
Fad Gadget,
Yusef Lateef,
Nation of Ulysses,
the Slits,
Crash Course in Science,
Dark Day,
Marmalade,
Howard Jones,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Joy Division,
Little Man,
Bill Near,
Frankie Knuckles,
the Normal,
Infiniti,
Bang On A Can,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Raincoats,
The Remains,
Magma,
Glenn Branca,
Black Bananas,
Make Up,
Sugar Minott,
Stetsasonic,
The Sound,
Byron Stingily,
Boredoms,
Funkadelic,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Faraquet,
Maleditus Sound,
Leonard Cohen,
The Mojo Men,
Gang Green,
Lee Hazlewood,
Dennis Brown,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Icehouse,
the Swans,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Piero Umiliani,
The Blues Magoos,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Albert Ayler,
Kerri Chandler,
Boz Scaggs,
The Busters,
Desert Stars,
Excepter,
In Retrospect, In Retrospect, In Retrospect, In Retrospect.
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.