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 Belarus and from Sao Paulo.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Blancmange to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Livin' Joy. All the underground hits.
All The Names tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Half Japanese record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rites of Spring record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smoke,
Brothers Johnson,
Talk Talk,
Faust,
Tears for Fears,
Pussy Galore,
Skriet,
Bronski Beat,
48th St. Collective,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Gabor Szabo,
Laurel Aitken,
Yusef Lateef,
Section 25,
Camberwell Now,
Heaven 17,
Arab on Radar,
Moss Icon,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Donny Hathaway,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Dual Sessions,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Fugazi,
FM Einheit,
The Litter,
The Velvet Underground,
Y Pants,
Arthur Verocai,
Dorothy Ashby,
Monolake,
Prince Buster,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Sam Rivers,
Lakeside,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Knickerbockers,
Infiniti,
Pagans,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Janne Schatter,
Morten Harket,
Suicide,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Cowsills,
Avey Tare,
Chrome,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Marshall Jefferson,
China Crisis,
Gang of Four,
Letta Mbulu,
Marcia Griffiths,
Aswad,
Q and Not U,
The Slits,
Monks,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Bluetip,
Wire,
Andrew Hill,
Tubeway Army,
The Wake,
Soul II Soul,
Echospace, Echospace, Echospace, Echospace.
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.