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 Netherlands and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 guitar 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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane to the crunk 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 Rapeman. All the underground hits.
All Japan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Durutti Column record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 an organ and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Girls At Our Best! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Schoolly D,
Boredoms,
Stockholm Monsters,
Carl Craig,
Suicide,
Infiniti,
Gang Gang Dance,
Gang of Four,
The Mojo Men,
Altered Images,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Peter and Kerry,
The Standells,
Brass Construction,
Henry Cow,
Hasil Adkins,
Mary Jane Girls,
Eve St. Jones,
Danielle Patucci,
Zero Boys,
Laurel Aitken,
The Beau Brummels,
Audionom,
Ossler,
Crispian St. Peters,
Essential Logic,
X-101,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Derrick May,
The Cramps,
Cybotron,
Barry Ungar,
London Community Gospel Choir,
R.M.O.,
Dead Boys,
Porter Ricks,
UT,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Monks,
Electric Prunes,
the Association,
Althea and Donna,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Alison Limerick,
JFA,
Yellowson,
Los Fastidios,
The Blues Magoos,
The Modern Lovers,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Gang Starr,
The Dead C,
The Gun Club,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Moleskins,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Victims,
Cameo,
Tim Buckley,
Anakelly,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Urselle,
Sonic Youth,
Skriet, Skriet, Skriet, Skriet.
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.