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 Uganda and from Beijing.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 mellotron 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 Ten City to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Desert Stars. All the underground hits.
All Gang of Four tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terror Squad Feat. Camron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ken Boothe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ 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?
Aaron Thompson,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Roger Hodgson,
Marmalade,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Monks,
Nils Olav,
Thee Headcoats,
The Cowsills,
The Blackbyrds,
Lalann,
Rakim,
The Zeros,
Peter & Gordon,
Public Image Ltd.,
Curtis Mayfield,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Cure,
Tommy Roe,
T.S.O.L.,
Bob Dylan,
The Move,
Davy DMX,
The Music Machine,
Bill Near,
Royal Trux,
OOIOO,
Jandek,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Sound Behaviour,
Cameo,
The Martian,
Kaleidoscope,
F. McDonald,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Blossom Toes,
The Fortunes,
Monks,
The Pretty Things,
Bronski Beat,
LL Cool J,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Negative Approach,
Make Up,
Zapp,
Spoonie Gee,
Yusef Lateef,
Excepter,
Amon Düül II,
Mr. Review,
Albert Ayler,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Names,
Surgeon,
10cc,
Marine Girls,
Dawn Penn,
Lucky Dragons,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
ABBA,
Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye.
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.