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 Cyprus and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Sao Paulo.
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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Bluetip to the disco 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 Minutemen. All the underground hits.
All Dead Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aswad 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Faust record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe 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 Star Department,
Pharoah Sanders,
Sällskapet,
The Smiths,
Chrome,
Toni Rubio,
Minor Threat,
Deepchord,
Jacques Brel,
Brick,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Move,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Minnie Riperton,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
the Soft Cell,
Duran Duran,
Barry Ungar,
Con Funk Shun,
David Axelrod,
EPMD,
The Martian,
The Young Rascals,
Tres Demented,
Warsaw,
Piero Umiliani,
T.S.O.L.,
the Association,
Byron Stingily,
Mission of Burma,
Bill Wells,
Ultra Naté,
D'Angelo,
Hot Snakes,
The Residents,
The Skatalites,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Cramps,
Ultimate Spinach,
Kevin Saunderson,
Talk Talk,
Section 25,
David Bowie,
Radiopuhelimet,
Moby Grape,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Symarip,
Procol Harum,
Colin Newman,
Agitation Free,
the Fania All-Stars,
Radio Birdman,
Crash Course in Science,
The Mummies,
The Divine Comedy,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Invisible,
The Last Poets,
Dual Sessions,
The Slits, The Slits, The Slits, The Slits.
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.