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 Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Terry Callier to the rap 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 Average White Band. All the underground hits.
All Fort Wilson Riot tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terrestrial Tones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camouflage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Duran Duran,
Nick Fraelich,
Scan 7,
The Doors,
Johnny Clarke,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Last Poets,
the Slits,
Wasted Youth,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Boogie Down Productions,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Detroit Cobras,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Toni Rubio,
Liliput,
kango's stein massive,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Ponytail,
Dennis Brown,
Black Sheep,
Bill Near,
Inner City,
Sister Nancy,
The Pop Group,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Curtis Mayfield,
Rekid,
Gong,
Jawbox,
Radiopuhelimet,
Kool Moe Dee,
Stetsasonic,
Soulsonic Force,
In Retrospect,
Grey Daturas,
Robert Görl,
Mark Hollis,
Marvin Gaye,
Vainqueur,
Audionom,
Eddi Front,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Lalann,
the Germs,
E-Dancer,
Idris Muhammad,
Ornette Coleman,
The Stooges,
Black Pus,
Kevin Saunderson,
Porter Ricks,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Names,
ABBA,
Cymande,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
New Age Steppers,
Byron Stingily,
Harmonia,
Massinfluence,
Monks, Monks, Monks, Monks.
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.