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 Pakistan and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Sixth Finger to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Erykah Badu. All the underground hits.
All Fela Kuti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Connie Case 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 spring reverb and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nils Olav record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Donny Hathaway,
The Pretty Things,
Brand Nubian,
The Beau Brummels,
Bluetip,
K-Klass,
Deakin,
Tommy Roe,
The Offenders,
Pussy Galore,
Grandmaster Flash,
Delon & Dalcan,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Zeros,
Sugar Minott,
The Martian,
Brass Construction,
Sällskapet,
Barclay James Harvest,
Bang On A Can,
Stockholm Monsters,
LL Cool J,
Bill Near,
Pierre Henry,
Mark Hollis,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Infiniti,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Barbara Tucker,
Slave,
James White and The Blacks,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Desert Stars,
Jeff Lynne,
Rosa Yemen,
The Five Americans,
Fela Kuti,
Kevin Saunderson,
the Association,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Barry Ungar,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Darondo,
Banda Bassotti,
Hot Snakes,
Technova,
Althea and Donna,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
T. Rex,
Minutemen,
The Index,
Peter and Kerry,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Rhythm & Sound,
Cal Tjader,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Golliwogs,
Kayak,
Absolute Body Control,
The Techniques,
Arcadia,
David Axelrod,
Skriet, Skriet, Skriet, Skriet.
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.