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 Vietnam and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Malaria!. All the underground hits.
All Peter and Kerry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeff Lynne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 808 and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Man Eating Sloth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
The Dead C,
Gil Scott Heron,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Gang Starr,
UT,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Rapeman,
Isaac Hayes,
Black Moon,
Suburban Knight,
Peter and Kerry,
The Martian,
Andrew Hill,
Swell Maps,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Moebius,
Malaria!,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Schoolly D,
Lalann,
Half Japanese,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Big Daddy Kane,
Nick Fraelich,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Josef K,
Heaven 17,
Anthony Braxton,
Man Parrish,
Bluetip,
the Association,
Khruangbin,
kango's stein massive,
Kaleidoscope,
The Trojans,
Erykah Badu,
Lyres,
Infiniti,
The Moleskins,
Aaron Thompson,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Dennis Brown,
48th St. Collective,
The Pretty Things,
Barrington Levy,
Zapp,
Scan 7,
Skaos,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Gun Club,
Wolf Eyes,
Magma,
The Last Poets,
Joyce Sims,
Bauhaus,
Talk Talk,
Ohio Players,
Eurythmics,
Roxy Music,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu, Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu, Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu, Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu.
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.