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 Congo and from Halifax.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and New York.
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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Derrick May to the grime 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 Bootsy Collins. All the underground hits.
All Vainqueur tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gerry Rafferty 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Foxx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stiv Bators,
The Cramps,
Liliput,
The Toasters,
Aswad,
Sex Pistols,
Kerrie Biddell,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Fluxion,
The Litter,
John Holt,
Newcleus,
Juan Atkins,
Nirvana,
Theoretical Girls,
Dennis Brown,
Wire,
Isaac Hayes,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Visage,
UT,
Brand Nubian,
Public Image Ltd.,
Kenny Larkin,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Maurizio,
Junior Murvin,
Janne Schatter,
Angry Samoans,
Sun City Girls,
Scott Walker,
The Barracudas,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Monks,
Funky Four + One,
Infiniti,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Ronan,
Severed Heads,
R.M.O.,
Toni Rubio,
Metal Thangz,
The Cure,
Whodini,
These Immortal Souls,
Eric Dolphy,
DJ Style,
Stetsasonic,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Crispy Ambulance,
Suicide,
Circle Jerks,
The Fugs,
Jimmy McGriff,
Spoonie Gee,
The Raincoats,
Jacob Miller,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Fire Engines,
Al Stewart,
Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane.
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.