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 Greece and from Portland.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 rhodes 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 Human League to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Cosmic Jokers. All the underground hits.
All Lower 48 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Misunderstood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roy Ayers Ubiquity record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tommy Roe,
Unwound,
Pierre Henry,
Scientists,
Crispian St. Peters,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Lakeside,
Funky Four + One,
Gerry Rafferty,
Dawn Penn,
Main Source,
Glambeats Corp.,
KRS-One,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Magma,
Boogie Down Productions,
Gregory Isaacs,
Joey Negro,
Roger Hodgson,
Wolf Eyes,
Fad Gadget,
Agent Orange,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Electric Prunes,
Jeru the Damaja,
Scott Walker,
Curtis Mayfield,
Deakin,
Niagra,
Bill Near,
Mars,
Michelle Simonal,
Eve St. Jones,
the Soft Cell,
Camouflage,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Slave,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Motorama,
Warren Ellis,
Angry Samoans,
L. Decosne,
The Real Kids,
Funkadelic,
Neil Young,
Mary Jane Girls,
Soulsonic Force,
Isaac Hayes,
Marmalade,
Pantytec,
the Fania All-Stars,
Pagans,
Joy Division,
Avey Tare,
Quadrant,
Piero Umiliani,
Dennis Brown,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Barracudas,
Absolute Body Control,
The Dead C,
Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols.
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.