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 Kuwait and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Royal Family And The Poor to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Marshall Jefferson. All the underground hits.
All The Five Americans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Faust 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Alison Limerick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pulsallama,
Eric Dolphy,
Barclay James Harvest,
Whodini,
Eli Mardock,
Blossom Toes,
Cheater Slicks,
Sarah Menescal,
Vainqueur,
Chris & Cosey,
The Selecter,
Con Funk Shun,
The Cramps,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Wasted Youth,
Camouflage,
DJ Style,
David Bowie,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Dennis Brown,
Flipper,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Arcadia,
Barrington Levy,
Visage,
Depeche Mode,
Marc Almond,
Maurizio,
Loose Ends,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Nik Kershaw,
The Leaves,
Suicide,
Das Ding,
The Neon Judgement,
Theoretical Girls,
Kerri Chandler,
Gang Gang Dance,
Gichy Dan,
Slave,
Drexciya,
Rekid,
Blake Baxter,
Max Romeo,
Bluetip,
MC5,
Television Personalities,
Brothers Johnson,
Hoover,
Vladislav Delay,
Mad Mike,
Eden Ahbez,
Lee Hazlewood,
Suburban Knight,
8 Eyed Spy,
Nirvana,
Slick Rick,
Amon Düül,
Joyce Sims,
Matthew Halsall,
The Move,
The Birthday Party,
Cluster, Cluster, Cluster, Cluster.
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.