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 Laos and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 snare 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 the Bar-Kays to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Reuben Wilson. All the underground hits.
All Nation of Ulysses tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rapeman 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Adolescents,
Popol Vuh,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Guru Guru,
The Durutti Column,
The Evens,
The Monks,
Negative Approach,
The Sound,
The Misunderstood,
Boredoms,
Blossom Toes,
Peter and Kerry,
The Angels of Light,
Nas,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Cramps,
Niagra,
The Vogues,
Sound Behaviour,
Stiv Bators,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Janne Schatter,
E-Dancer,
Idris Muhammad,
Swell Maps,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Erasure,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Sun Ra,
Fear,
Nirvana,
Banda Bassotti,
Ken Boothe,
Audionom,
Roy Ayers,
Spoonie Gee,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Fall,
Suburban Knight,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
John Coltrane,
The Real Kids,
The Golliwogs,
The Trojans,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Sugar Minott,
Funky Four + One,
Monks,
Mark Hollis,
Lakeside,
Todd Terry,
Marvin Gaye,
Danielle Patucci,
Unrelated Segments,
the Soft Cell,
Moby Grape,
Vladislav Delay,
Robert Wyatt,
Accadde A, Accadde A, Accadde A, Accadde A.
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.