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 Guatemala and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 The Pretty Things to the grime 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 Negative Approach. All the underground hits.
All The Fall tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Five Americans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Donald Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
China Crisis,
The Litter,
Gang Green,
Los Fastidios,
Section 25,
The Skatalites,
10cc,
The Residents,
The Busters,
Man Parrish,
Bill Near,
The Cure,
Black Moon,
H. Thieme,
Crispian St. Peters,
Josef K,
The Black Dice,
MDC,
Electric Prunes,
Radio Birdman,
Little Man,
The Alarm Clocks,
Popol Vuh,
Surgeon,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Pole,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The New Christs,
Interpol,
The Red Krayola,
Brick,
Vainqueur,
Absolute Body Control,
Lucky Dragons,
Simply Red,
Magma,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
the Human League,
Con Funk Shun,
Niagra,
Deadbeat,
Main Source,
Rosa Yemen,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Mo-Dettes,
The Names,
The Remains,
Black Pus,
David McCallum,
Todd Terry,
The Victims,
Loose Ends,
8 Eyed Spy,
Pet Shop Boys,
the Soft Cell,
Gil Scott Heron,
Sun City Girls,
Lungfish,
Colin Newman,
Soul Sonic Force,
Frankie Knuckles,
D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo.
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.