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 Lesotho and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Crooked Eye to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Roy Ayers. All the underground hits.
All Tom Boy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Popol Vuh record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Music Machine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Can,
Von Mondo,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Names,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Neon Judgement,
Thompson Twins,
Sexual Harrassment,
Crispian St. Peters,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Motorama,
Soul II Soul,
The Birthday Party,
Masters at Work,
Gregory Isaacs,
Nik Kershaw,
Main Source,
Maleditus Sound,
Parry Music,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Motions,
Black Sheep,
Derrick May,
Agent Orange,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Royal Trux,
Tubeway Army,
The American Breed,
Reagan Youth,
One Last Wish,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Lyres,
Theoretical Girls,
Dorothy Ashby,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
the Swans,
the Normal,
Ultra Naté,
Iggy Pop,
Big Daddy Kane,
Freddie Wadling,
Ludus,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Red Krayola,
The Zeros,
The Raincoats,
Colin Newman,
Todd Terry,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Donny Hathaway,
The Pop Group,
Scrapy,
Joy Division,
James White and The Blacks,
Beasts of Bourbon,
48th St. Collective,
The Tremeloes,
Lee Hazlewood,
Echospace,
Qualms,
Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine.
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.