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 Mauritius and from Copenhagen.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 clarinet 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 Slits to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Khruangbin. All the underground hits.
All Talk Talk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Inner City 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a ABBA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cybotron,
Cameo,
Scion,
Radio Birdman,
The Divine Comedy,
Negative Approach,
Altered Images,
The Moleskins,
the Fania All-Stars,
Slave,
the Human League,
Andrew Hill,
Pulsallama,
The United States of America,
T. Rex,
Soul II Soul,
New Order,
One Last Wish,
Spandau Ballet,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Half Japanese,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Kaleidoscope,
Radiopuhelimet,
Pantaleimon,
The Leaves,
Tommy Roe,
Tubeway Army,
Alison Limerick,
LL Cool J,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Golliwogs,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Marmalade,
The Gun Club,
World's Most,
Lungfish,
Kerrie Biddell,
Depeche Mode,
Trumans Water,
Echospace,
Pagans,
Althea and Donna,
The Birthday Party,
A Certain Ratio,
Heaven 17,
Ultra Naté,
Aloha Tigers,
Sex Pistols,
John Coltrane,
Marshall Jefferson,
X-102,
Rod Modell,
The Detroit Cobras,
Smog,
Funkadelic,
Gabor Szabo,
Model 500,
Arab on Radar,
Graham Central Station, Graham Central Station, Graham Central Station, Graham Central Station.
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.