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 Bolivia and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 Boogie Down Productions to the funk 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 The Walker Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Ludus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gun Club record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Darondo,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Alarm Clocks,
China Crisis,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Intrusion,
Altered Images,
The Wake,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Mary Jane Girls,
Franke,
Hardrive,
Los Fastidios,
Barbara Tucker,
The Real Kids,
Icehouse,
Soft Machine,
Cecil Taylor,
Nik Kershaw,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Glenn Branca,
The Zeros,
Johnny Clarke,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Skaos,
Gil Scott Heron,
the Swans,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Grass Roots,
Judy Mowatt,
Jesper Dahlback,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Five Americans,
James Chance & The Contortions,
the Normal,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
John Coltrane,
H. Thieme,
The Move,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Throbbing Gristle,
Harry Pussy,
Roy Ayers,
Mandrill,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
DNA,
A Certain Ratio,
Pharoah Sanders,
Wolf Eyes,
T. Rex,
Urselle,
Rites of Spring,
Audionom,
June of 44,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Rufus Thomas,
Grauzone,
Pet Shop Boys,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Harmonia, Harmonia, Harmonia, Harmonia.
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.