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 Monaco and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 London Community Gospel Choir to the crunk 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 Seeds. All the underground hits.
All Henry Cow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scientists record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Royal Trux,
The Walker Brothers,
a-ha,
Altered Images,
Nick Fraelich,
Eddi Front,
Los Fastidios,
Cymande,
Radiohead,
Infiniti,
Funkadelic,
The Cramps,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Hashim,
The Vogues,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Amon Düül II,
Drive Like Jehu,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Popol Vuh,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Searchers,
Trumans Water,
The American Breed,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Aloha Tigers,
Mad Mike,
Minny Pops,
MDC,
Andrew Hill,
Blancmange,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Kool Moe Dee,
Eden Ahbez,
Gil Scott Heron,
Kas Product,
Ice-T,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Pylon,
Tres Demented,
Avey Tare,
Ludus,
The Neon Judgement,
Radio Birdman,
Monks,
Suburban Knight,
Franke,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Velvet Underground,
Man Parrish,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Moleskins,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Cameo,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Cowsills,
Judy Mowatt,
Yellowson,
The Misunderstood,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Rites of Spring,
Bill Wells, Bill Wells, Bill Wells, Bill Wells.
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.