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 Turkey and from Taipei.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Gong to the disco 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 Television. All the underground hits.
All Cheater Slicks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chris & Cosey,
Wolf Eyes,
Man Parrish,
Roxy Music,
The Pop Group,
OOIOO,
Graham Central Station,
Lalann,
Camberwell Now,
Sister Nancy,
Pylon,
Little Man,
Robert Görl,
the Bar-Kays,
B.T. Express,
Delta 5,
Y Pants,
Qualms,
The Black Dice,
Lucky Dragons,
Boredoms,
Saccharine Trust,
Connie Case,
Rosa Yemen,
Procol Harum,
Oneida,
Adolescents,
Morten Harket,
John Coltrane,
Zero Boys,
Stereo Dub,
Funky Four + One,
Tommy Roe,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Invisible,
Rites of Spring,
Amazonics,
Crash Course in Science,
Cybotron,
Bootsy Collins,
Scientists,
Sällskapet,
Harry Pussy,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Kayak,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
June of 44,
The Wake,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Modern Lovers,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Dead Boys,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Roxette,
The Grass Roots,
Ossler,
Bobby Sherman,
CMW,
Theoretical Girls,
Donny Hathaway,
Public Image Ltd.,
Derrick May,
Icehouse,
Von Mondo, Von Mondo, Von Mondo, Von Mondo.
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.