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 Switzerland and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in 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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 harpsichord 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 Radio Birdman to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Soft Machine. All the underground hits.
All Sugar Minott tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angels of Light & Akron/Family 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rites of Spring record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Joe Finger,
The Names,
The Mighty Diamonds,
June of 44,
Thee Headcoats,
Hashim,
X-101,
Lou Christie,
The Detroit Cobras,
X-102,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Drexciya,
The Dead C,
Prince Buster,
Chris Corsano,
Popol Vuh,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Last Poets,
Eric Copeland,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Fluxion,
Half Japanese,
Monks,
Grey Daturas,
The Index,
Blossom Toes,
The Kinks,
Yellowson,
Ken Boothe,
Bad Manners,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Moss Icon,
Arab on Radar,
Blake Baxter,
Sexual Harrassment,
Robert Hood,
Crash Course in Science,
Leonard Cohen,
Jeff Mills,
Skarface,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Black Flag,
Connie Case,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Martian,
Cybotron,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Aloha Tigers,
Unwound,
The Wake,
Lindisfarne,
Jimmy McGriff,
Desert Stars,
Aural Exciters,
New Order,
Quadrant,
Brick,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Residents,
Harry Pussy,
June Days,
H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme.
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.