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 Fiji and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 arpeggiator 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 Scrapy to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Louis and Bebe Barron. All the underground hits.
All David Bowie tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Derrick May 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Hutcherson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultimate Spinach,
The Moleskins,
Soft Machine,
Tim Buckley,
Babytalk,
Tommy Roe,
The Fire Engines,
Robert Görl,
Man Parrish,
The Names,
Can,
Barclay James Harvest,
Derrick May,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Move,
Pet Shop Boys,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Buckinghams,
Siglo XX,
Japan,
The Evens,
Trumans Water,
The J.B.'s,
La Düsseldorf,
Organ,
The Wake,
Bobby Sherman,
Pantytec,
Camouflage,
Loose Ends,
Echospace,
Connie Case,
Public Image Ltd.,
Dennis Brown,
Chris Corsano,
Marc Almond,
Tears for Fears,
Con Funk Shun,
Motorama,
Pole,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Cure,
Shoche,
Slick Rick,
Vainqueur,
Man Eating Sloth,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
KRS-One,
Flamin' Groovies,
Avey Tare,
Sonic Youth,
Hasil Adkins,
Kerrie Biddell,
Bobby Womack,
The Beau Brummels,
Robert Wyatt,
Radio Birdman,
Clear Light,
H. Thieme,
The Slits,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics.
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.