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 Bahamas and from Philadelphia.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the linndrum 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 The Dead C to the punk 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 Nation of Ulysses. All the underground hits.
All Josef K tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barbara Tucker,
Reuben Wilson,
Boogie Down Productions,
Adolescents,
Second Layer,
the Sonics,
the Swans,
Flipper,
Desert Stars,
Isaac Hayes,
This Heat,
Nils Olav,
The Seeds,
Bill Near,
Rosa Yemen,
Alton Ellis,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Music Machine,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Peter & Gordon,
Deadbeat,
Gerry Rafferty,
Todd Rundgren,
Interpol,
DJ Style,
DNA,
Suicide,
Jacob Miller,
Funky Four + One,
Anthony Braxton,
Franke,
Amazonics,
Con Funk Shun,
Joensuu 1685,
Fear,
The Fortunes,
In Retrospect,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Arab on Radar,
The Leaves,
Blossom Toes,
Morten Harket,
Pagans,
Juan Atkins,
Pharoah Sanders,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Byron Stingily,
Jawbox,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Busters,
Minor Threat,
Tropical Tobacco,
Johnny Clarke,
The Electric Prunes,
Camberwell Now,
Unrelated Segments,
Avey Tare,
Sun Ra,
Soulsonic Force,
Mary Jane Girls,
Inner City,
Be Bop Deluxe, Be Bop Deluxe, Be Bop Deluxe, Be Bop Deluxe.
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.