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 Kiribati and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 sitar 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 Lalo Schifrin to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Henry Cow. All the underground hits.
All The Gap Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Motorama record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crime record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Searchers,
Swans,
The Vogues,
A Certain Ratio,
Ultimate Spinach,
Ponytail,
Das Ding,
Howard Jones,
Talk Talk,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Funkadelic,
Subhumans,
Bizarre Inc.,
Stockholm Monsters,
Ossler,
Monks,
The Mojo Men,
Lungfish,
Ituana,
Cabaret Voltaire,
the Association,
Oblivians,
Marine Girls,
Connie Case,
Susan Cadogan,
Brass Construction,
Black Flag,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Surgeon,
the Bar-Kays,
Kevin Saunderson,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Lalann,
10cc,
Bobby Byrd,
Soft Machine,
Crooked Eye,
Avey Tare,
Darondo,
the Soft Cell,
Parry Music,
Traffic Nightmare,
Dennis Brown,
Pole,
Tommy Roe,
Eli Mardock,
Laurel Aitken,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Joy Division,
The Mummies,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Tremeloes,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The J.B.'s,
Steve Hackett,
Malaria!,
New Order,
Negative Approach,
The United States of America,
Bobbi Humphrey,
A Flock of Seagulls,
PIL,
Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow.
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.