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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Camouflage to the rap 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 Rhythm & Sound. All the underground hits.
All Graham Central Station tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Supertramp record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ronan,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Ponytail,
Black Moon,
The Searchers,
Bobbi Humphrey,
James White and The Blacks,
The Selecter,
Andrew Hill,
Gang Starr,
The Pretty Things,
Graham Central Station,
FM Einheit,
Niagra,
Scrapy,
Slick Rick,
Goldenarms,
The Birthday Party,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Robert Hood,
Marc Almond,
Hasil Adkins,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Motions,
The Grass Roots,
Pylon,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Victims,
Index,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Radiopuhelimet,
Tim Buckley,
Babytalk,
Black Pus,
John Foxx,
Organ,
The Barracudas,
Derrick May,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Harry Pussy,
Anakelly,
Technova,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Scott Walker,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
the Soft Cell,
Soft Machine,
This Heat,
Neu!,
The Cure,
Kas Product,
Boz Scaggs,
kango's stein massive,
Reagan Youth,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Frankie Knuckles,
Schoolly D,
Metal Thangz,
June of 44,
Curtis Mayfield,
Monolake,
Big Daddy Kane,
Interpol, Interpol, Interpol, Interpol.
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.