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 Mali and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 Tokyo and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the organ 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 Ornette Coleman to the dance 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 Bad Manners. All the underground hits.
All Kaleidoscope tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Faraquet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 snare and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Interpol record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Shadows of Knight,
Sällskapet,
Crooked Eye,
Don Cherry,
Patti Smith,
Public Enemy,
Rosa Yemen,
Pole,
Vainqueur,
The Last Poets,
Bobby Byrd,
Jacques Brel,
Lakeside,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
the Fania All-Stars,
Henry Cow,
Can,
Maurizio,
Public Image Ltd.,
Pierre Henry,
Hot Snakes,
Cymande,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Walker Brothers,
Loose Ends,
Amon Düül,
Joe Finger,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
MDC,
Freddie Wadling,
Q65,
Eli Mardock,
Fela Kuti,
Lebanon Hanover,
the Swans,
Niagra,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Radiopuhelimet,
Jawbox,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Skarface,
Kerrie Biddell,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Fad Gadget,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Zapp,
Scott Walker,
Nas,
Pantytec,
Grauzone,
Laurel Aitken,
David Bowie,
Echospace,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Sonic Youth,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Jesper Dahlback,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Simply Red,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Martian, The Martian, The Martian, The Martian.
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.