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 Czech Republic 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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Don Cherry to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Gabor Szabo. All the underground hits.
All Lafayette Afro Rock Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magma record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Al Stewart record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Drexciya,
Byron Stingily,
The Selecter,
Mad Mike,
Yazoo,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Glenn Branca,
Neil Young,
Severed Heads,
Slave,
Groovy Waters,
8 Eyed Spy,
Althea and Donna,
Gerry Rafferty,
Sound Behaviour,
Gong,
Public Image Ltd.,
MDC,
The Golliwogs,
John Lydon,
FM Einheit,
Andrew Hill,
Janne Schatter,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Rufus Thomas,
The Invisible,
Sonic Youth,
Al Stewart,
Jawbox,
James White and The Blacks,
Eve St. Jones,
Quantec,
Ralphi Rosario,
Magma,
Stereo Dub,
Lungfish,
Los Fastidios,
Iggy Pop,
Heaven 17,
Simply Red,
Terry Callier,
Mo-Dettes,
The Buckinghams,
Mr. Review,
Ultimate Spinach,
Brand Nubian,
Leonard Cohen,
Magazine,
OOIOO,
Lindisfarne,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Joyce Sims,
Tim Buckley,
Echospace,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Icehouse,
Tubeway Army,
Technova,
Bootsy Collins,
Swell Maps,
Mark Hollis,
Masters at Work,
Alice Coltrane,
Eyeless In Gaza, Eyeless In Gaza, Eyeless In Gaza, Eyeless In Gaza.
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.