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 Guyana and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in 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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Flesh Eaters to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Minnie Riperton. All the underground hits.
All Bluetip tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wings 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Susan Cadogan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Magma,
The Flesh Eaters,
Bobby Byrd,
Soul II Soul,
Wally Richardson,
A Certain Ratio,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
F. McDonald,
Sam Rivers,
James White and The Blacks,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Camberwell Now,
Soft Machine,
Subhumans,
Ituana,
Blossom Toes,
The Angels of Light,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Reagan Youth,
Thee Headcoats,
Echospace,
Man Eating Sloth,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
UT,
Monks,
Hot Snakes,
T.S.O.L.,
Jandek,
Shuggie Otis,
the Normal,
Cecil Taylor,
Curtis Mayfield,
R.M.O.,
Delon & Dalcan,
Lou Reed,
X-Ray Spex,
Aaron Thompson,
Q and Not U,
Laurel Aitken,
Ossler,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Birthday Party,
One Last Wish,
Flash Fearless,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Prince Buster,
Throbbing Gristle,
Alice Coltrane,
Leonard Cohen,
Trumans Water,
Electric Prunes,
David McCallum,
48th St. Collective,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Deadbeat,
Big Daddy Kane,
Youth Brigade,
Intrusion,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Standells,
Niagra,
The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes.
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.