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 Mozambique and from Bologna.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Mark Hollis to the techno 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 Patti Smith. All the underground hits.
All H. Thieme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ossler record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spandau Ballet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Electric Prunes,
Inner City,
Loose Ends,
Swans,
Jeru the Damaja,
Terry Callier,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Donald Byrd,
a-ha,
Banda Bassotti,
Darondo,
Radio Birdman,
Clear Light,
MC5,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Arab on Radar,
MDC,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Malaria!,
Mad Mike,
Ohio Players,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Saints,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Tears for Fears,
Television Personalities,
Organ,
Mark Hollis,
Monolake,
The Young Rascals,
The Monks,
Neil Young,
Wally Richardson,
Dorothy Ashby,
Gang Green,
Suicide,
Eric Copeland,
Lindisfarne,
Gang of Four,
Lou Reed,
Zero Boys,
Excepter,
Q65,
The Litter,
Bobby Sherman,
Ice-T,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Crime,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Ultra Naté,
The Martian,
The Walker Brothers,
Man Eating Sloth,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Grey Daturas,
Joey Negro,
kango's stein massive,
R.M.O.,
Warren Ellis,
the Germs, the Germs, the Germs, the Germs.
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.