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 Korea South and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 808 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 Stockholm Monsters to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Radio Birdman. All the underground hits.
All Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kevin Saunderson 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Wake record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Eating Sloth,
Desert Stars,
The Detroit Cobras,
Ponytail,
Audionom,
The Names,
Chris Corsano,
Pole,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Television,
Suicide,
Ossler,
Excepter,
Sonic Youth,
the Slits,
Black Flag,
Nation of Ulysses,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Camberwell Now,
E-Dancer,
Johnny Osbourne,
Chrome,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Drexciya,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Cybotron,
Grandmaster Flash,
Main Source,
Archie Shepp,
Eric B and Rakim,
Chris & Cosey,
Albert Ayler,
Mary Jane Girls,
Idris Muhammad,
Sixth Finger,
The Dead C,
Rotary Connection,
Henry Cow,
Altered Images,
Ice-T,
Talk Talk,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Kurtis Blow,
The Remains,
Theoretical Girls,
Au Pairs,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Slits,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Misunderstood,
Junior Murvin,
Janne Schatter,
DNA,
Kas Product,
Ken Boothe,
Mo-Dettes,
X-101,
The Beau Brummels,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Mandrill,
Outsiders,
Rakim,
Adolescents,
Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths.
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.