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 Uganda and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Kool G Rap & DJ Polo to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Intrusion. All the underground hits.
All The Gladiators tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Throbbing Gristle 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tropical Tobacco record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barrington Levy,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Wally Richardson,
Main Source,
LL Cool J,
The Shadows of Knight,
Basic Channel,
Davy DMX,
Sonny Sharrock,
the Association,
Judy Mowatt,
Moebius,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Move,
Roxy Music,
David Bowie,
Ossler,
Cluster,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Japan,
The Slackers,
The Names,
June Days,
Marshall Jefferson,
Infiniti,
The Barracudas,
The Tremeloes,
Heaven 17,
The Slits,
The Sonics,
Bad Manners,
Index,
The Pretty Things,
Joe Smooth,
Danielle Patucci,
The Doors,
Tears for Fears,
The Dead C,
The Grass Roots,
Lee Hazlewood,
Mary Jane Girls,
Magazine,
Kas Product,
Neil Young,
The Leaves,
Rufus Thomas,
Cameo,
Organ,
Little Man,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Gabor Szabo,
8 Eyed Spy,
Slave,
The Fuzztones,
June of 44,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Kinks,
Eric Dolphy,
Sparks,
The Music Machine,
Roxette,
Rites of Spring,
Siglo XX, Siglo XX, Siglo XX, Siglo XX.
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.